


Out of Nowhere

by DraconisWing24441



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mentions of past attempted suicide, Sheppard is a rancher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 74,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraconisWing24441/pseuds/DraconisWing24441
Summary: Rodney is en route to a scientific conference where he’s supposed to present his new groundbreaking research when, to his horror, he winds up stuck in a small town in the middle of Wyoming after a snow storm sends his rental car into a tree.  John winds up playing host to the prickly scientist while his car is getting fixed and finds himself drawn to Rodney despite himself.  Of course, the course of true love never did run smooth and once they succumb to their mutual attractions, a rift occurs that may separate them forever . . . unless they’re willing to put aside their fears and risk their hearts.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 45
Kudos: 116
Collections: Stories I've Read





	1. Chapter One

_THEN_

_Drawers yanked open, belongings scattered around the room . . . a half-full military duffel bag lay open on the bed. All signs of a life in flux. All forgotten as John stared down at a photo he hadn’t even known he’d still had, let alone brought along with him when he’d enlisted after . . . Well, after. At first glance, it was a run-of-the-mill family photo: a smiling woman stood in front of a house with her arms around two young boys who were very clearly brothers, surrounded by blue sky and green grass. They looked happy, as most family photos show. But on second glance, this one was special. John rubbed a thumb over the woman’s face, his shoulders slumping further as he fervently wished she were here to give him advice. And a hug. God, could he use a hug from his mother right now. All he wanted was to collapse into his mother’s arms like he was five years old again and have her tell him it was all going to be okay because he really doubted that right now._

_“I miss you, Mom,” he said softly to the photo, looking at how happy she’d been. They’d been. “What do I do now?” His world had upended in such an abrupt way, he was still trying to figure out how to accept all that had happened. He tenderly set the photo aside and went back to packing. John picked up a shirt and the photo floated onto the floor. It landed face down and, as John bent to rescue it, he noticed there was a caption on the back:_ ‘Me, Dave, and Johnny at the old family ranch, summer 1979.’ _John read it again, a light dawning. The old family ranch . . . That would be perfect. The perfect place to figure things out. Recuperate._

_But where was it? Fortunately, there were a couple people he could ask. Unfortunately, he didn’t think they’d want to talk to him. Not that he particularly wanted to talk to them, either of them. At all. Ever._

_He sighed. He’d have to try, though. It was the only thing he could think of doing. John folded the photo and slid it into his wallet then quickly finished packing. Then he headed to the PX and used the pay phone to call one of two people he didn’t think he’d ever talk to again._

_"Sheppard Enterprises, David Sheppard speaking.”_

_That familiar tightness squeezed his chest and stole his breath momentarily. John shut his eyes and drew in a slow breath, hand squeezing the phone as he leaned against the wall._

_“Hello? Is anyone there?”_

_John croaked, “Hey, Davey. Got a sec for your big bro?”_

_" . . . John? Is that you? Are you seriously calling me right now?” Dave demanded._

_John winced. Maybe this was a bad idea. He pushed on despite his current misgivings, “Y—yeah, it’s me. Listen, I know I probably shouldn’t be calling—“_

_“Damn right you shouldn’t be calling! Do you even remember what you said when you left? And now you think you can just come back and—”_

_"Dave! Come on, I’m not calling about—” John sighed, ran a hand over his face and tried again, “Look, can we just—can we not do this now?”_

_“Sure. Of course. Because it’s never about the family with you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just hang up on you right now.”_

_The scorn in his brother’s tone was almost enough to make him hang up right then and there. John rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Look, I just—I wanted to ask you something about Mom. Alright? That’s why I called.”_

_Silence._

_After a minute, John ventured, “Dave? You still there?”_

_A clearing of a throat then, “Yeah. Yeah, um.” Dave’s voice was quiet. “What about Mom?”_

_John blew out his breath in relief that Dave was willing to talk. “I was, uh, looking through some things and found this old photo of you, me, and Mom but the thing is, I don’t know where it was taken. Mom wrote on the back that we were at the old family ranch and I was kind of hoping you knew what she meant?” He bit his lip as he waited for his brother’s response._

_“You know, I think I remember that. You were in high school, right? I think I was still in middle school, then. God, that was so long ago,” Dave said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. John relaxed a bit, loosened his white knuckled grip on the phone. “You don’t remember Mom came from a ranching family? She took us out there a couple of times but stopped after she got sick. Father never came, though you always had a great time out there, if I remember correctly.”_

_“I, uh, I must have blocked that memory.” Interesting that his brother was getting nostalgic on him. This was going much better than he’d thought. Then again, Mom was pretty much the only topic they could talk cordially about nowadays. John switched the phone to his other ear and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know if it’s still around, would you? If it was sold or, you know, where it is?”_

_"Nooo . . .” his brother said slowly and there was a murmur of another voice. “Oh, hey, listen, John, I have to go. I have a meeting. As far as I know, we still own the ranch. And I think there’s someone taking care of things. As for where, it was somewhere out west; that’s all I know. If you want more information than that, you’ll have to ask Father. Or our lawyer. He’d probably know about that.”_

_John lowered the phone and bit back a curse. Raising it back to his ear, he said, “Okay. Well, thanks anyway.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_They both went silent, neither quite clear on how to say goodbye. Dave finally said, “It was good to hear your voice. Glad to hear you’re still alive.”_

_John smiled faintly. Alive. Yeah that was one word for it. Surviving, more like. Surviving when others should have lived. But his brother had attempted to make an effort so John attempted one back. “Yeah. You, too. Thanks for the chat.”_

_"Welcome. I, uh, I do actually have to get going so . . . Bye, John.”_

_"Bye, Davey.” John slowly hung the phone back on the hook and sighed. He was surprised he was even able to be more emotionally drained than he was already. There was no way in hell he was calling his father. John would much rather shoot himself in the head than talk to his father ever again. Hell, he was kind of on the way there already but talking to him would push John over the edge. So he settled for the second option: the family lawyer._

_Luckily enough, the lawyer that Father had had on retainer for years, Miles, did know about Mom’s family history and informed John that, not only did Mom own the ranch at the time of her passing, but that Dave had been right. The Sheppards_ did _still own it, in her name, and she had legally passed ownership on to John when she died. Which he’d never known but which settled John’s problem of where to go now._

_Wyoming._

* * *

NOW

The world was monochrome.

Literally everything beyond the windshield was some shade of white or gray with some black mixed in for good measure. Rodney squinted, trying to see the road through the snow reflecting his headlights back at him. “Take the scenic route,” he muttered in a mocking approximation of his sister’s voice as he glanced at his phone. The GPS had stopped working a while back but there’d been zero options to get off this road without turning around. In his normal register, Rodney continued irritably, “Gee, thanks, Jeannie, for the _awesome_ suggestion. Now I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere, can’t see a damn thing in this snowstorm, and—Whoa!”

He uttered that last exclamation as the back of the car swerved unexpectedly. He swung the steering wheel back and forth before managing to get it under control. Rodney blew out his breath. “Okay, okay, that wasn’t fun. Right.”

Then it happened again and this time the whole car started to spin out. Rodney uttered a panicked refrain of, “Oh god oh god oh god,” as he slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel in a futile attempt to straighten his car out.

Then the world went white.

Rodney blinked several times and stared out the windshield. The cracked windshield. _Shit_. Unclenching his grip on the steering wheel, Rodney unbuckled his seatbelt and shoved the door open to go out and check the damage. The snow his car had wound up in was up to mid-calf as he made his way to the front. From what he could see, he wasn’t going anywhere. The front end was buried in snow and pressed up flat against a tree. There was a broken branch on the hood—that explained what had cracked the windshield. Rodney sighed then shivered and got back in the car, slamming the door shut and rubbing his hands together. Okay okay, think. 

Get out of the snow. Duh. 

Rodney put the car in reverse and hit the gas. The wheels spun but couldn’t gain traction. The car remained stationary. He switched gears, putting it in neutral, and tried again. Same thing. He frowned. “Okay,” he thought aloud, “so I’m obviously not going to be driving anywhere anytime soon.” He leaned forward to check the gas gauge—a third of the tank left. “Okay, and I can’t _stay_ in the car. For—reasons. Which means . . . I don’t know what that means. I’m fucked. That’s what it means. It means I’m going to die. I’m going to freeze to death in this stupid rental car because I took my sister’s advice for the first time and took the scenic route and now I’m going to die because I’m in the middle of nowhere! Great.”

He dropped his head onto the steering wheel and muttered, “I’m so haunting you when I die.”

After a couple minutes of stewing and blaming his sister for getting him into this situation, Rodney blew out a breath, sat up, and reached for his phone, hoping the GPS would at least tell him where he was. Or the general vicinity so he could hopefully call for a tow truck. Nothing. Not even a hint of WiFi to help him out. His mapping app just kept doing that little loading circle. No WiFi, no way to figure out where the fuck he was or get a call out. Great. That was just fucking great. So no tow. What was left? He sighed, looked outside at the snow swirling around in the headlights and came to a horrible decision that was really the only decision. He had to accept the sad fact that he wasn’t getting his car out of this snow bank and he wasn’t going to sit here, wait for the gas to run out, the engine to die, and the heat to shut off—as much as he would prefer staying out of the weather.

So Rodney reluctantly resigned himself to walking and hoping that someone lived nearby who would have a phone he could use. He pulled on his hat and gloves, shoved his phone in his back pocket, and pulled the zipper of his coat all the way up to his chin. Then he pulled the hood up, made a face, and reluctantly shut the engine off.

The cold started to filter in almost immediately. He grimaced. Bracing himself, Rodney stepped outside and locked the doors because he wasn’t going to walk _and_ carry his luggage with him, then trudged back to the road. His socks were wet already from walking in the snow. He looked left and right, hoping for a car. Nope. Totally alone. Great. Since he knew he hadn’t seen anything while driving, Rodney turned right and started down the side of the road in the direction he’d been traveling, praying he’d find a house before he froze to death this way. At least walking would create body heat as opposed to sitting still in a car.

In retrospect, Rodney thought some time later, maybe he should have flown in for the conference instead of driving down from Jeannie’s. He’d been walking for god knew how long, he could barely feel his hands where they were shoved into his pockets or his feet in his not-nearly-properly-equipped-for-winter shoes, the road was never ending, and he was fairly certain he’d never been so cold in his life—and he’d worked in Siberia! He was Canadian! So that was saying something. He wasn’t even totally sure that he was still walking, the scenery was that monotonous. 

Then he saw it.

It could have been a mirage, he thought, so he blinked several times but no. It remained. A break in the never-ending forest of trees on either side of the road. No trees meant something, right? Like a road or a yard or a driveway. Rodney squinted, trying to see. The forestry on his right ended in a fence. Hope fluttered in his chest. Fence meant humans. He followed the fence until it split for a driveway. _Oh thank god_. Rodney turned onto the drive, passing a sign that he only spared a quick glance for. It was enough to know that it was inhabited. There was something written on it but it didn’t register; his focus was now on getting to whoever lived here. 

Rodney stumbled over the uneven dirt driveway that wound its way back, absently noting other things in his periphery as he kept his eyes on the ground: empty fenced-in pastures on either side that stretched out to beyond his field of vision; a couple barns in the distance; some farm equipment; and a large two-story house with lights on through the windows, a smaller house with no lights on to the side, and an open area out front where a pickup truck and a couple other cars were parked.

Civilization. Finally.

There was a large wraparound porch and Rodney made his unsteady way up the steps onto the porch. There was a bench, some chairs, a few holiday decorations that looked like someone either forgot to take down or were in the process of putting up? What time of year was it again? Rodney didn’t much care. What he _did_ care about was that he was seconds away from not feeling cold. He raised a gloved hand and pounded on the door. He hoped. He wasn’t really sure it was making any sound but he continued to hit his hand against the wooden door. 

Then the door opened and Rodney had to grab the doorjamb to keep from falling. He looked up, blinking against the sudden light, to see a man standing opposite him, backlit from within. The guy held onto the door with one hand and stared at Rodney in confusion. “Um, hello?”

Rodney forced the words out past his numb lips, “I n-need to use your ph-ph-phone.” Without waiting for an answer, Rodney shoved past the guy and into the house. He didn’t even wait for permission to enter; his need for heat outweighing any social niceties. Not that he cared about those normally, anyway.

The house was warm and bright. That was the first thing Rodney noticed—and definitely the most important. It had an open floor plan—that was the next thing he noted. There were a few doors along the walls, a staircase on the far right, couches and chairs placed haphazardly . . . and the wall opposite the door contained wide glass windows and a set of double doors that would maybe open onto a patio but currently just gave a very nice view of snow. Lots and lots of snow.

What Rodney did not see was a phone. Everyone had some sort of handset home phone, so where was this guy’s? He shivered, shoved his hands back in his pockets, shook his head so his hood fell back, and turned back to the guy. “Wh-where’s your ph-phone?”

He was standing in front of the closed door, arms crossed. The look of confusion was still there. “Was I expecting you?”

Rodney blinked, not following. “W—what?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t—at least I don’t _think_ I know you . . .” He took a step forward, studying Rodney with a crease between his brows. “Hang on, how did you even get here? I didn’t hear a car pull up, and I don’t see any other cars out front. ”

Shivering, Rodney explained, “I w-walked, that’s why I n-need your phone. Wh-where is it?”

The guy’s eyes widened and, arms falling to his sides, he said incredulously, “Wait, you _walked_? In _this_ weather? Are you nuts? You could have frozen! God, you probably have hypothermia or frostbite. Come here, we need to get you warm before we do anything else.”

Rodney found himself being ushered over to a chair that was quickly turned to face a fireplace that had a nice roaring fire in it. Rodney decided he’d lecture the guy on the dangers of having a fire indoors later. After he was warm. Rodney sank down into the rather comfy chair.

“Take your coat and gloves off; I’ll be right back.”

Rodney managed to slide his gloves off, letting them fall to the floor, and then did the same with his hat. When it came to his coat, though, his fingers had trouble grabbing hold of the zipper. Oh god, _did_ he have frostbite? The guy returned at that point, kneeling down in front of Rodney. “I—I can’t,” Rodney started to say, his hands shaking and unable to grip the tiny metal zipper.

“It’s alright; I got it.” He gently batted Rodney’s hands away, unzipped Rodney’s coat and helped him out of it. Then he draped a thick fleece blanket over Rodney’s shoulders and _oh_. Oh that was nice. Rodney snuggled into the fleece as the first hints of warmth started to push the cold away. The guy studied him then turned his head to the side and bellowed, “LAURA!”

Rodney started, dislodging part of the blanket.

The guy replaced it and yelled again, “HEY, LAURA!”

A feminine voice bellowed back, “WHAT?”

“HEY, BRING ME A GLASS OF HOT CHOCOLATE!”

She yelled back, “COME GET IT YOURSELF, YOU LAZY ASS!”

Rodney felt the hint of a smile as the guy rolled his eyes and walked away, yelling back with a hint of irritation, “IT’S NOT FOR ME, IT’S FOR A GUEST!”

“WHAT GUEST?”

Their conversation continued beyond Rodney’s range of hearing, thankfully dropping to a quieter volume, so Rodney scooted his chair closer to the fire, trying to tug the blanket tighter around him. The guy—and Rodney really needed a better way to think of him. Cowboy? Country . . . guy? Farmer?—returned after a couple minutes and basically shoved a steaming cup into Rodney’s hands.

“Here. Drink this. It’ll help.”

The aforementioned hot chocolate, apparently. His fingers were starting to hurt which meant that the fire and blanket were doing their job of reheating his chilled extremities. He took a tentative sip—it was the perfect temperature. Hot enough to be good, but not hot enough to burn his tongue. Rodney took a larger sip and felt the delicious chocolate liquid burn a path down his throat into his stomach. He closed his eyes and drank deeply for a few seconds. He’d never tasted anything better.

A scraping sound drew his attention and Rodney opened his eyes to find the guy had dragged a chair opposite Rodney’s, a foot or so between the chairs, and was studying him again. It was kind of uncomfortable so Rodney decided he’d study the guy right back. He had a right to know who his rescuer was and what he looked like, right? You know, in case he needed to file a police report or something. His first true look at the guy and Rodney promptly had a mild inner freak out because oh good god the guy was hot. And . . . a cowboy? Was that the right word? The man was slim, definitely kept in shape, and perhaps in his early- to mid-thirties. He had thick black hair that stuck up every which way and Rodney was certain he used some sort of styling gel because there was no way it normally stuck up like that. Rodney mentally ticked up the age to early forties as he noted the laugh and age lines around his eyes. It made him closer to Rodney’s own age.

The cowboy had bright green, or maybe it was hazel, eyes, thick stubble along a jawline that was sharp enough to cut, full lips . . . Rodney mentally forced himself to look away, which, of course, brought his attention to what the cowboy wore. He wore a blue denim shirt with the top button undone and sleeves rolled up to the elbows tucked into the waistband of a pair of faded jeans. He propped a booted foot up on one knee. “I’m John, by the way,” the sexy cowboy offered after the silent scrutiny had gone on for a bit. “John Sheppard.”

Still a little dumbstruck by the unfair hotness of the man sitting opposite, Rodney could only nod in acknowledgement of the introduction.

John raised an eyebrow and said dryly, “This is the part of the conversation where you tell me your name.”

Rodney blinked. Oh. Right. Oops. “Dr. Rodney McKay. Of science, not medicine. I don’t do the soft sciences.”

Obviously biting back a smile, John nodded. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Rodney.”

“If you say so,” Rodney replied before he returned to his drink. Warmth was finally starting to trickle through the rest of his body. People were never happy to meet him, not after a few minutes. And he didn’t much care if Sheppard liked him or not. Rodney wasn’t staying long enough for it to matter either way.

John slouched a bit more, rested his elbows on the armrests, and asked, “So you wanna tell me why you were out walking down the road at night in a snowstorm?”

Rodney rolled his eyes. Stupid question. “Well, it’s not like I planned on it!”

John just raised that eyebrow again.

After a moment, Rodney muttered, “It’s all my sister’s fault.”

John’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, what? How is it your sister’s fault that you were out in a snowstorm? With extremely inadequate clothing, I might add?”

“Because she guilted me into taking one of her suggestions, that’s how!” Rodney snapped.

“Really.”

“Yes, really! I was visiting her and then when I left she did the whole little sister guilt thing and so in a rare moment of weakness, I let her program my GPS. She put me on the damn “scenic route” which put me miles away from any form of civilization and then my GPS stopped working _because_ I’m miles away from civilization. Then my worthless rental car decided to turn against me and got stuck in the snow. No way in hell was I staying there to freeze to death in that metal death trap so, yes. I got out and started walking in the hopes that someone—crazy though they may be—actually lived out here in the middle of nowhere—”

John interrupted, “Wait, are you telling me that you crashed your car? And then walked here? How long ago did this happen?”

Rodney huffed again. “Yes. Hello? Weren’t you listening? That’s why I had to come here. I hit some ice, I think, and lost control and smashed into a tree. I don’t know how long ago. An hour? More? Less? I have no idea because, as I said, I was a bit preoccupied with not freezing to death. Look, can I just borrow your phone now and call a tow truck? I’d like to rescue my belongings at some point as well. Wait, do you even have towing service out here? I assume you have a phone.”

John shrugged. “Yeah, there’s a landline you can use—”

Rodney mouthed in horror _landline?_

John continued, “But it won’t do you any good. ‘S dark out now and snowing too hard.”

“But—but my car!” Rodney spluttered.

John shrugged. “It’s not going anywhere. And I don’t think you should either. Not til morning anyway. Might as well stay here and we’ll take care of things tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Rodney asked, starting to work himself into a panic attack. “I can’t leave my stuff in the car until _tomorrow_! Are you insane? What if someone happens to come along? Oh my god what if a bear comes or—or the snow gets inside? Oh god my research. All of my work. Gone. Oh god,” Rodney sucked in several deep breaths, seeing the horror of being unable to present because of the goddamned _snow_!

Water trickled down the side of his forehead and Rodney reached up automatically, thinking it was just melted snow running off his hair. John suddenly reached forward and snatched his wrist, twisting it to see.

Rodney’s attention was arrested by the sight. “Is that—is that blood?” Rodney asked faintly. “Am I bleeding?”

John swore then jumped up, yelling, “LAURA!” He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged out of it and rolled it into a ball. Rodney’s attention then fixed on the tight white shirt that John had been wearing underneath the denim button down. Then he flinched as John pressed his shirt against Rodney’s head. John ducked his head to meet Rodney’s gaze and ordered, “Keep pressure on that. I’ll be right back. LAURA, I NEED YOU!”

So, by now, Rodney assumed that this woman that John kept calling for was either John’s wife or girlfriend. Which was unfortunate. Not only was he rescued by a sexy cowboy but said sexy cowboy was straight and taken. Just his luck. The night just kept getting worse.

A hand holding John’s shirt pressed against the injury on his forehead, Rodney watched as John disappeared into a room behind one of the closed doors then reappeared a couple minutes later with a small white box. Laura met him in the hall, put her hands on her hips, and demanded, “What now?”

“Can you give Carson a call? Ask him to come over? Rodney’s been in a car accident.”

“Who’s Rodney?” 

John gestured to the side and she glanced over. “Oh.” Laura lifted a hand in greeting, her long red hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was also wearing some form of cowboy chic: jeans, brown knee high boots, and a green sweater. “Yeah, sure. I’ll call him. Hey, is he okay? I mean, does Carson need to bring more than his basic kit?”

John glanced over as well. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t see anything else but I just want to be sure. Tell Carson just the basic kit’ll be fine. Oh hey, is Evan still here or did he head back to his place, do you know?”

“No, he should still be around. I think he was closing up the barns with Ronon. I’ll give him a call on the radio after I talk to Carson.” Laura pulled out her phone and walked away.

John then returned to his chair, propped the first aid kit open on his lap and said calmly, “Let’s see what we can do about this, hmm?” John leaned forward and wrapped a hand around Rodney’s, gently easing his shirt away from Rodney’s head. John gave him a reassuring smile. “It doesn’t look too bad but we’ll treat it, anyway. Hold still, okay?” He rummaged in the first aid kit then ran an antiseptic wipe over the wound. It stung and Rodney reflexively jerked away. 

“ _Ow_ ,” he said pointedly.

“Don’t be a baby; it’s just a cut. Come back. And hold still. You don’t want that to get infected, do you?” Reluctantly Rodney let him treat the injury. “Doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches, but head wounds can be tricky. I’ll put a bandage on it but I’ll still feel better once the doc gets here.” John pulled out one of the wide square bandages and smoothed it across Rodney’s forehead then sat back with a nod of acknowledgement. “There we go. Good as new.”

“John?” They turned as Laura rejoined them, holding a plate in one hand. “Carson’s on his way; said he should only be fifteen or so. And Evan’s en route. Said you caught him just as he was heading home.”

“Great, thanks, Laura.” John packed up the first aid kit and set it to the side. He reached out to take his shirt from Rodney and set that aside, as well.

She came closer and added, “Hi. I’m Laura. I thought you might be hungry after all that walking so I warmed up some leftovers.”

_Food_. Rodney nodded several times, reaching out for the plate. “Yes, food. Real food. None of that gas station crap that’s all I’ve had since I set out on this road.” With a chuckle, she handed him the plate and silverware. He set it on his lap: meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, mixed vegetables. It looked delicious and citrus free.

“Shep? Laura said you wanted to see me?”

“Oh, yeah, hey. Just a sec.” John glanced at Rodney and added, “Be right back.” Then, hopping to his feet with an ease that Rodney envied, John left to go talk to the new guy while Rodney tucked into the warm meal.

Leaving Laura with McKay, John put a hand on his friend’s arm and drew him off to the side. Evan was still in his coat and boots, having come in through the kitchen, and was leaving puddles of melted snow in his wake. As they walked, Lorne gave McKay a quizzical look back over his shoulder. “Who’s that with Laura?” He looked John over and added, “And where’s your shirt?”

" _That_ ,” John answered in a low tone as they reached the far side of the room and out of earshot of the others, “is what I wanted to talk to you about. His name is Rodney McKay and he’s kind of stuck. He crashed his car into a tree and walked here. My shirt was sacrificed as a makeshift bandage.”

Lorne threw McKay another look, incredulous this time. “He did _what_? And what? Makeshift bandage?”

John nodded. “Yeah, that was about my reaction.”

“Should we be calling for a doctor? Or the police?”

“Carson’s on the way to make sure there’s nothing seriously wrong. And we don’t need to call the sheriff in. He just had an accident on the ice.” John glanced over to the fireplace. Laura had taken John’s seat opposite McKay and was talking. He took a breath then said, “He wanted to get it towed but I think I convinced him it’s better to wait til morning.”

“Agreed,” Lorne nodded. “It was pretty bad when I was headed back from the cattle barn. Visibility’s dropping fast.”

“Right,” John agreed. “Thing is, he’s awfully concerned about his computer sitting in the car overnight so I’m gonna take the truck out and get it for him. Maybe he’ll relax if he’s got his stuff.” John didn’t believe that, though. From what little he’d seen from the guy, McKay seemed like he was wound pretty tight.

“Alright. So you go get his computer and . . . what? You asking me for advice?”

“Sort of? I mean, he’s gonna have to stay here. I’ll risk going to check out his car—if he was walking, it’s not far—but going into town and hoping there’s room? I don’t wanna risk getting stuck.”

“True,” Evan nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. What do we know about this guy?”

“Not much,” he sighed. “But, I don’t know, he seems like a decent guy. What could one night hurt?”

Evan looked over to McKay and Laura then asked in a low tone, “You want me to stay in here tonight?”

John looked over as well, chewing his lower lip. McKay was talking to Laura, waving a hand, fork still in it. He smiled faintly. “Nah. I think we’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fine. I _can_ take care of myself, you know,” John added with a joking tone. 

Lorne blew out his breath and replied, “No. No, you’re right. I know you can. I just worry about you, you know that.”

“You always worry about me.”

“Yeah, and I have good reasons to.”

Yeah, yeah, he did, John thought, noting the tense set to Evan’s shoulders. That had been a rough time and, honestly? Evan saved his life. So John let him worry and say things that John wouldn’t let most others say. But this was different. This was helping out a stranger so John reached out to rest a hand on his friend’s shoulder, waited til Evan met his gaze, then said firmly, “This is nothing like that. Okay? I’m good now.”

Evan studied him for a long moment then nodded. “Okay. You want company on the road?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.” Evan grinned. “I am still dressed for it, after all. You, though, might wanna put on a shirt.”

John grinned back. “Nah, I’m good. Just need my coat.”

It took a matter of seconds for John to do so then they filled the others in on the plan. McKay informed them that the car was locked and handed over a set of keys. Evan asked Laura to keep the radio close then they were heading out. They took John’s pickup, easing their way through the storm. Directions weren’t needed. John figured, if McKay had had to walk _here_ , then he hadn’t come from the direction of town. The snow was coming down hard, swirling in the headlights and making it difficult to drive. He didn’t worry about sliding; the snow tires had enough traction to keep them on the road. John remained focused on the driving, though, letting Lorne keep a lookout for McKay’s car. John reluctantly admitted to himself that it was a good idea Lorne had come. John wouldn’t have been able to do both without the serious potential of getting himself stuck, too. 

After a couple of miles, Lorne suddenly said, “There it is!”

John pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road and headed back. Scanning the road, John spotted it almost at the same time as Lorne said, “There, see?” 

“Yup, got it.” Angled off the side of the road and partially under a tree, was McKay’s car. John pulled in just behind where the back end of the car was, put the pickup in park and grabbed the radio. “Sheppard to Base, come in.”

“This is Base,” came the response after a few worrying moments of silence. “What’s up, boys?”

John replied, “We’ve found the car. Will radio when we’re en route home.”

“Copy that. Be safe.”

John put the radio back in the base and hopped out. The snow was deep, and the wind biting, making John grateful for his thick boots and coat as he forged his way through the snow to McKay’s car. Cupping his hands around his eyes, John peeked in through the windows. His breath fogged the glass and he used his gloved hand to wipe it off. The backseat was empty but there was something on the passenger seat.

“Shep!” Lorne called out over the roar of the wind. John looked up. Lorne was at the front right. He gestured down and shook his head. “It’s really not going anywhere. Whatever your guy was doing when he hit this tree, he really did a number on the front end!”

John shook his head, shivered. The wind was picking up. McKay was damn lucky if all he got from this was a cut on the forehead. “I don’t see anything in here other than a bag up front! Check the trunk?” As Lorne headed back that way, John pulled out McKay’s keys and unlocked the driver’s side door, pulled it open and reached down to hit the button that would pop the trunk. He put one knee on the seat and, by the light from his truck’s headlights, he saw that it was a computer bag sitting on the passenger seat. Bracing himself on the seatback, John leaned in to grab the bag by a strap, dragging it across the center console. It snagged on the seatbelt buckle so he had to work it loose. John did one last check for anything else, but when he saw nothing, John pulled out.

“Got two suitcases back here!” Lorne called out.

John swung the computer bag’s strap over a shoulder, slammed the door shut and headed for the trunk. Lorne had already hoisted one of the suitcases out to sit in the snow and was in the process of lifting the other, larger, one out. “Jesus,” Lorne grunted as the suitcase’s wheels caught on the lip of the trunk, “what the hell does he have in there?”

John grabbed the other end and helped lift it out. “Dunno. Let’s just get this stuff in the truck and head back. It’s not getting any better out here.” He was frankly surprised McKay had made it to the ranch. John had enough trouble seeing, and he had a truck and headlights to help. How McKay had managed to stay on the road in the dark, let alone make it to the ranch, John had no idea. He took one suitcase, Lorne the other, and dragged it through the snow back to the truck where John pulled down the tailgate and tossed the suitcase inside. It bounced then slid a few inches. Lorne threw his in and closed the gate back up. John handed him the computer bag and they climbed back into the cab. John cranked the heat up, put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road as Lorne called Laura on the radio to let her know they were headed back.

Minutes later, John pulled to a stop in front of the ranch house and they got out, retrieved McKay’s suitcases and hauled them inside. The wind blew snow in after them and Lorne slammed the door shut. John stomped his boots on the floor, dislodging snow. 

“Welcome back, lads,” Carson greeted them.

John glanced over as he peeled his coat off, shoving his gloves in the pocket before draping it over the back of the couch. Next to him, Lorne had just unzipped his coat, rather than take everything off since he’d be heading home soon. “Hey, doc, glad you could make it out. How’s he doing?”

Laura was still in the chair, Carson standing between her and Rodney with his kit on the coffee table. Rodney was looking better, John noted, more color in his face than there had been when he first arrived.

“ _He_ ,” Rodney interjected irritably, “has been subjected to various unnecessary poking and prodding by your so-called doctor and it turns out I’m perfectly fine other than the cut on my forehead that you already treated. Did you get my laptop?”

John lifted the bag by the strap. “Right here. Doc?”

Bent over the coffee table, Carson was replacing items in his bag. “Aye, John, he’s got a couple of superficial cuts and bruises from the car crash but that’s the worst of it. I saw no signs of hypothermia or frostbite. Shouldnae be any long term effects. You’re a right lucky fellow, Rodney.” He rolled the “r,” a hint of his Scottish brogue that tended to come out when he was stressed or emotional. 

Rodney scowled but muttered, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, lad. I suggest a good night’s sleep in a warm bed. And change that bandage in the morning.” He snapped his bag closed and straightened. “Anything else you lads need or can I get back home to me own warm bed?”

John glanced at Lorne, who lifted a shoulder. “No, I think we’re good. Thanks for coming out on such short notice, Carson. Appreciate it.”

“Anytime, John, anytime.” Carson looked to Rodney. “If anything changes, let John know and I’ll come right over.”

McKay nodded. 

Laura then said, “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna head out as well, John.”

“Go ahead. Evan’s here if I need anything.”

Laura rolled her eyes as she got up to gather her things. “Please, like he’s any good to you outside of grunt work. We all know the whole lot of you would starve without me.” Lorne snorted. 

John grinned and said cheerfully, “Aw come on, Lorne’s good for so much more than hauling hay around. He . . .” John paused dramatically then turned to his friend and asked, teasingly, “What do you do around here besides haul hay?”

Lorne rolled his eyes and said dryly, “Funny. I’ll have you all know if it weren’t for me, there’d be no ranch.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” John admitted with a half-shrug. Then he grinned and added, “You do all the paperwork!”

Carson chuckled and put his coat on, grabbed his bag. “Come on, my dear. Time to call it a night. Until next time, gentlemen.”

John saw them out, making sure that they made it into their respective cars and started on their way without too much trouble. _Damn, I’m gonna have to plow tomorrow before anything else gets done_ , John thought with a sigh. Maybe he could foist it off on Ronon. Locking the door, John turned back and said, “Alright, well. McKay, why don’t I show you to one of the guest rooms and we’ll all call it a night?”

Rodney nodded and stood, still holding the blanket around his shoulders. He suddenly looked rather small and vulnerable. It kind of made John want to pull him close and promise to take care of him. John blinked—where had _that_ thought come from?—then grabbed one of the suitcases. 

Lorne caught his eye and said, “You okay here?”

John nodded and reached for the second, lifting the handles up so he could roll them easily over to the stairs. “Yeah, we’re good. Just gonna get McKay settled then head to bed myself. See you in the morning?”

Lorne nodded. “Alright. I’ll lock the doors on my way out. See you in the morning.” He cast one last look at McKay, shook his head, then walked away.

Rodney took his computer bag but left John to haul the suitcases up the staircase to the second floor. He grunted with the effort, wondering, as Lorne had, what the hell was in them? Once at the top, John tipped his head to the side and directed Rodney, “Second door on the left.”

Rodney hesitated just slightly before pushing open the door and stepping inside. John followed him in and tucked the suitcases along the wall. Rodney stood next to the doorway, looking around. The queen-sized bed took up most of the space, but there was a decent-sized dresser and cabinet. A trunk at the foot of the bed.

John glanced around as well, tucking his hands in his pockets. He didn’t entertain or have guests often so it was kind of rustic in accommodations. He hadn’t done much to spruce up the place when he’d arrived except make sure nothing was rotted and there was no dust. “It’s not much,” he offered, “but it’s got the necessities. There’s a heater in the cabinet, extra blankets and such in the trunk.” Rodney slowly turned to face him. John chucked a thumb out to the hall and added, “Bathroom’s down the hall, third door on the right. You need anything else?”

Rodney set his laptop bag on the bed then sat down and bounced a couple times, testing the firmness. He shook his head. “I’m good.”

John nodded, a little awkward. “I’m, uh, I’m at the far end, last door on the right, if you need anything.”

Rodney nodded again, let the blanket fall off his shoulders finally. 

John’s gaze lingered on the bandage on his forehead, making a mental note to check it in the morning, then backed out of the room with a quick, “Night.”

“Sheppard?” Rodney called.

John ducked back into the room. “Yeah?”

Rodney looked around, then down, then back up at John, an uncertain expression on his face. “Um, I just—thanks. For, um. You know, everything. I appreciate you letting me stay here tonight.”

John smiled. “No problem. I’ll see you in the morning.” John headed to his room after that, tugged his shirt over his head as he toed the door shut then headed for his dresser, goosebumps rising on his skin. A quick twist of his wrist turned the space heater on—he really needed to get the HVAC system checked. John sighed and pulled his pajamas out. Another thing to add to the ever-growing list. He changed, set his alarm, then shut the light off and got into bed. He lay on his back, staring up at the darkened ceiling, and hoped for sleep to come quickly so he wasn’t stuck with his thoughts for long.


	2. Chapter Two

Wakefulness brought with it a blissfulness that only came about after a night of deep, dreamless, sleep. Blinking open sleepy eyes, Rodney found himself looking at a wall of brown. It was a light brown and very much not in a hotel room. He rubbed his eyes, his fingers catching on something on his forehead. Then he remembered. And he groaned. Right. Of course. There was no hotel room because he had gotten his car stuck in the snow and wound up at some cowboy farm in the middle of nowhere. And that was a bandage on his head because he’d gotten hurt when his car went off the road and the cowboy took care of it. Rodney grimaced, rolled over, and reached out to snag his cell from the nightstand. He hit the home button but nothing happened. Had he turned it off before bed and just forgot? He tried turning it on but the screen remained stubbornly black. Oh fuck, was it dead? Rodney closed his eyes. Why did life hate him so much?

After a few more minutes of grumbling and mentally haranguing himself—and Jeannie—Rodney decided he needed coffee, as well as to charge his phone, and reluctantly got out of bed. It had been a surprisingly comfortable bed, considering he had a bad back and had been in a car accident the night before. The sheet was flannel, and the covers had been thick enough that he’d only needed one extra blanket from the trunk, along with the heater, to fall asleep. Pulling on a pair of socks and clutching his phone and charger in one hand, Rodney stepped out into the hall then paused. Where had the guy said the bathroom was? Crap, what was his name? It was something suitably cowboy-related, he was sure.

Rodney opened a couple of doors until he located the bathroom, used it, then made his way downstairs in search of coffee. Rodney paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked around. Sheppard supposedly lived here alone so the fact that the entire ground floor was empty of people was normal. Right? Rodney started across the floor, assuming the kitchen was through one of the doors he’d seen last night. That woman who’d brought him dinner had come from over there, hadn’t she? Just to be safe, though—and to make sure his presence hadn’t been completely forgotten—Rodney called out, “Sheppard? Hello? Anybody here?”

He glanced out the back wall, saw a winter vista out the windows—snow covered the land and there was what looked like a barn at the far horizon, tucked in along the line of trees. Snow-covered mountains filled the rest of the view, rising high into the cloudy sky above the trees. Rodney shivered reflexively. It looked cold, though at least it wasn’t snowing at the moment. He continued across the room. Assuming the archway led to the kitchen instead of one of the closed doors, Rodney walked through and found himself in a dining room. A wooden table long enough to have three chairs on the long ends, covered with a red table runner topped with a vase of flowers in the middle of the table filled the room. Two windows let more light in and Rodney looked around for a clock since his phone—his normal clock—was currently useless.

Another open doorway was off to the right of the room and Rodney stepped through. Finally, the kitchen. Which meant coffee. He looked around, hoping Sheppard had an actual coffee machine.

“Morning!”

Rodney jumped and turned to see . . .

The woman from the night before was stepping into the kitchen through the back door. She smiled at him as she pulled off her coat and boots. “Wondered when you’d finally make your way down here. Everyone else has been up for hours now. You want anything?”

Rodney blinked. “Uh . . . coffee?”

She grinned. “Coming right up. How do you take it?”

“Black’s fine.” First thing in the morning, all he needed was the caffeine. Rodney remained in the doorway as she pulled open a cupboard, pulled out a mug, then went over to a counter and—oh thank god. An actual coffeemaker. Not instant but real coffee. The bitter aroma reached his nose as she turned around and he nearly dropped his phone as he reached out for the mug. He only just barely remembered he was holding it in time to set his phone and charger on the kitchen island before taking the mug from her and drinking deeply.

After several sips, Rodney felt he was awake enough to have a conversation. “What time is it?”

“Oh, about nine or so,” she answered, sliding into a chair at the island. “I was starting to think we’d have to send someone in to check on you.”

Rodney frowned in confusion. “Why?”

She shrugged. “Well, ‘round here, the day starts at sunrise. It’s winter, sure, but the cows don’t care. They still want fed at the same time. So, yeah, we’re usually up and running at around six or so.”

Six. “In the morning?” She nodded. Rodney was horrified at the idea of getting up that early, let alone doing work that early. Wait, cows? So the cowboy actually had cows?

She gestured at him. “Then there’s the whole car accident thing and maybe we should have checked on you before now. But you’re okay, right? Grab a seat; we don’t much stand on ceremony here.”

Rodney shrugged and headed for a chair. He pulled it out then stopped, remembering his dead phone. “Um,” he said, reaching for it with one hand, “is there somewhere I can plug my phone in? It’s dead and I really need my phone to work. I didn’t see any extra sockets in my room and I kinda needed the heater”

“Oh, yeah. That’s kinda low on the list but we can plug it in here.” She grabbed it and plugged it into the wall by the coffeemaker. “Hey, you want anything to eat?”

If breakfast were anything like the dinner he had, he’d happily eat whatever this woman made. Rodney slid onto the high chair and said, “I could eat.”

“Great! What are you in the mood for?” She rattled off, “I could make pancakes, waffles, toast, scrambled eggs, omelets, or you could have bagels, muffins . . .”

“An omelet?”

“Coming right up!”

“And what kind of muffins?”

Laura gestured to a basket on the counter. “Chocolate chip, banana, apple cinnamon, blueberry . . . take your pick.”

Rodney got up to refill his mug, looked over the muffins and chose an apple cinnamon before returning to his seat. “By the way, I know you were here last night but I’m horrible with names. You’re going to have to remind me a couple times.”

She laughed as she pulled out a frying pan and several items from the large refrigerator. “Not a problem. I’m Laura Cadman, head chef of the Sheppard Family Ranch and part-time diner cook. I’d be full time at the diner but then the guys would all starve. I swear, the only thing John can make is coffee,” Laura laughed again. “And you’re Rodney, right?”

He ripped off a piece of the muffin and popped it in his mouth. Mmm, delicious. He swallowed quickly and replied, “Rodney McKay, yes.”

Laura shot him a grin over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you. Again. Oh, I should ask so I can let John know: how’s your head? Any other injuries pop up overnight?”

Rodney reached up to touch the bandage. He shrugged. “It’s okay. And, no, thankfully I have no other injuries. Um, where is John, by the way?”

She started whipping eggs in a bowl. “He’s working.”

Rodney raised an eyebrow. “With the cows?”

“Nah, that’s Ronon’s job, although John does know enough to take care of them. No, John prefers the horses and fixing things which is good since winter means fixing everything that’s been stacking up all summer.”

“So . . . has he said anything about my car? He said he’d take care of it but if he’s busy working . . .”

“Oh don’t worry.” There was a hiss as she poured the mixture into a pan. “John keeps his word. He’ll take care of things, if he hasn’t already.”

And somehow, Rodney believed that. There was just something very trustworthy about the man.

* * *

“Hey, girl,” John said softly, hitching the stall door closed behind him. “Sorry I’m late. Had some trouble with the plow. How’re you doing? Aiden been by yet?”

Atlantis whinnied and came over to butt him in the chest. John laughed and rubbed her nose, pressed his head to hers. Atlantis was his favorite and he always made time to check in on her throughout the day, no matter how busy things got. She was a gorgeous chestnut brown mare quarter horse with a white five-pointed star on her forehead. He ran a hand down her neck, feeling the soft hair against his skin.

She nudged his pocket and he chuckled, pulling back. “Yeah, yeah, you just want the treats I bring you. You’re so spoiled.” John retrieved the apple from his pocket and held it out. Atlantis took it, her lips tickling his palm. He took the curry brush off the wall and moved around to her side, running it across her thick winter hair.

The repetitive motion of grooming his horse was calming; a large part of why he made sure to find time to come see her. Now more than ever. John sighed, his hand pausing. What was he gonna do? “You got any suggestions?” he whispered.

Atlantis whinnied.

John sighed and patted her neck. “Yeah, me neither. Thanks for the chat, anyway.”

A clank interrupted them, quickly followed by a neigh from one of the other quarter horses down the aisle. John smiled as he heard the kid greeting PJ, “Hey, Puddles. You behaving in there? Hey, guess what? Laura gave me something for ya. Don’t tell the boss, yeah?”

PJ whinnied his response and Atlantis replied, shaking her head up and down, followed by the others. “Hey, kid!” John called, ducking under Atlantis’ neck and leaning out over the stall door. “Don’t let Peej tell you he hasn’t eaten! Not our fault he eats it all at once.”

“Morning, boss!” Aiden called back, coming down the aisle, pitchfork in hand. “Sorry, didn’t know you were in here.”

“Just saying hey to Atlantis. You need help?”

Aiden shrugged. “I mean, I won’t say _no_ if you wanna assist with mucking out the stalls.” 

John shook his head, resting his forearms on the stall door. “Sorry, kid. I pay you for that. Wait, Laura’s still here?”

“Yeah.” Aiden nodded. “She’s in the kitchen with some guy. I thought she was dating Dr. Beckett?”

Some guy? Oh, he must mean McKay. _Should probably go check on him_. “She is. This is just a guest. He had some car trouble and stayed over last night.” 

“Oh.” Aiden grinned and joked, “The major let him stay overnight without a background check?”

John rolled his eyes and turned around to hang the brush back on the wall. “Yes, he stayed the night. And he’ll be leaving once his car is fixed up which will be as soon as I take him into town to check on that. Which means,” John opened the stall door and stepped out, making sure Atlantis didn’t follow, “you are on your own. Have fun!”

Aiden whined, “Aw, come on, Colonel! Help a guy out!”

“Nope,” John replied cheerfully. He patted the kid on the shoulder as he walked by. He wasn’t a kid, really, but he was the youngest on staff so they just kind of fell into calling him that. Kinda like how ever since Aiden had found out John and Evan had served, he’d started calling them by their rank. John still preferred “boss” to “Colonel” but at least they’d broken him of saluting. That had gotten real old, real fast. “I’m heading into town to run some errands. Shouldn’t be more than a couple hours. Let Evan know for me?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

PJ kicked the door as John passed him. John paused to pat him on the nose. “Hey, Peej. Aiden’ll take care of your stall. I’ll see you later.” 

It was a short walk from the horse barn to the house but John enjoyed it nonetheless. The clear air, the quiet, the animals . . . When he came out here nearly four years ago, he’d never expected to enjoy it so much. It had been just a temporary thing, a way to find himself and his purpose in life again. If he were being honest with himself, any future he had was thanks to Lorne’s timely arrival barely a week after John moved in. His radio crackled, Ford telling Lorne that John was headed into town.

John swung open the gate to the backyard, latched it shut behind him, and headed for the kitchen. He pushed the door open and stepped in, stomping snow off his boots. He glanced up to see Laura and McKay sitting at the kitchen island, watching him. They each had a mug and there was an empty plate in front of McKay. Laura grinned. “Hey, look what the cows dragged in.”

“Horses, more like,” John replied with an answering grin. “Morning, McKay. How’d you sleep?” John went to grab a cup of coffee. He stirred in some sugar then headed to the fridge to pour a little milk in as well.

“Surprisingly well, considering.”

Settling his hip against the counter, John sipped from his mug. “How’s your head? Dizziness? Memory loss? Nausea?” John knew the symptoms of a concussion and he wanted to make sure that McKay hadn’t come away from his accident with one.

Rodney’s hand flew to his forehead, to the bandage still there. John studied it from his spot. There didn’t seem to be much seepage but he should probably change it, just in case. “Uh, it’s—it’s good, I guess. It doesn’t hurt and it’s not bleeding. Um, no. No, none of that. Are you also a doctor?”

“No.” John shook his head. “Just had my fair share of head injuries. Any other injuries make themselves known?”

Rodney shook his head. “Surprisingly, and completely unexpectedly, I appear to have gotten off lucky.”

“Glad you’re feeling okay. So, listen, I called this morning and had your car towed to the garage in town so I thought, now that you’re up, we could head in and see what’s what.”

“Oh.” Rodney drained his coffee and pushed the chair back. “Okay, um, can I use your shower?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Give me fifteen minutes.” And then he was gone.

John slid into a chair and leveled a look at his friend. “Laura.”

“Yes?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He refused to acknowledge that look. “You gotta stop giving Ford treats for PJ. I can only exercise him so much in this weather; he’ll turn to fat.”

She shrugged and got up, clearing the dishes from the island. “Let him exercise Puddlejumper then.”

“Aiden has other things he needs to be doing.”

“Then hire someone else to help.”

John sighed and set his cup down. “You know I can’t do that.”

She gave him a smile as she set the used dishes in the sink. “I’d be happy to take a pay cut, you know that. Heck, I’ll work for free, John. You’re family.”

“Not an option,” John immediately said. “Nor is laying off anyone. I’ll figure something out.”

“No ideas?” she asked sympathetically.

“Not a one. But like I said, I’ll figure something out. Eventually,” he said, unzipping his coat so he could slouch a bit in the chair. “Hey, you need anything while I’m in town?”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t need my grocery list on top of everything.”

“Laura . . .”

“I can and will buy my own groceries, John Sheppard,” Laura said firmly. “So you just focus on what you need for the ranch. And don’t worry. Things will work out like they’re supposed to.”

John sighed. “Man, I hope so.”

* * *

Sheppard’s pickup bounced along the dirt drive, making fresh tracks in the snow. Rodney gripped the door tight with one hand, his other making sure the seatbelt was secure across his chest as they bounced. They rolled to a stop as the drive met up with the road, Sheppard looking both ways before pulling out onto smooth pavement. Rodney refused to let go of either safety handle until they were in town. Whatever “town” meant, in this case. In this case, he was assuming an all-in-one general store/gas station sort of thing with a car repair garage and a diner. Maybe— _maybe_ —a nice restaurant but Rodney wasn’t holding out for much more than that.

“Are you always this tense when you drive?” Sheppard asked after the third time Rodney sucked in a breath as they went around a sharp curve at a higher speed than he cared for.

Rodney retorted, “Do you always drive this carelessly?”

“I drive this road all the time; relax.”

“I would, if you wouldn’t drive like a maniac.” He tensed as the road dipped in a slight hill. Rodney muttered, half under his breath, “I pity your wife.”

Sheppard asked, “What was that?”

Louder, Rodney said, “I said, I pity your wife.”

Sheppard gave him a weird look. “What wife?”

“Eyes on the road!” Rodney yelped, bracing a hand flat against the dash. Sheppard faced forward with a roll of his eyes. “Laura. She either doesn’t know about your reckless driving or doesn’t care and that is just as concerning.”

“Wait, you think—” Sheppard laughed, took a hand off of the wheel to run his fingers through his hair. “Oh wow you are so off base.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“Laura’s not my wife.”

“What?” Rodney twisted to face him, studying Sheppard’s profile as he drove. “She’s not?”

“Nope.”

“What? But she—she said. And you—you acted like—”

“She works for me. Well, sort of. Laura kind of showed up, claiming we couldn’t cook for shit, and she’s been making breakfast and dinner for the guys ever since.” John grinned, and added, “She’s with Carson, actually. The doctor who came by last night?”

“Really?” Rodney frowned slightly, rearranging things in his mind. So . . .

“Yeah. Pretty serious, too. I’m expecting him to pop the question anytime now.” John glanced at him and asked in amusement, “You really thought she was my wife?”

Rodney bristled. “It was a reasonable assumption!”

John laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. If it weren’t for one very important fact.”

“And that would be . . .?” Rodney asked curiously.

John shot him an unreadable look then faced forward and answered, “I’m gay.”

Rodney’s brain screeched to a halt. Hot cowboy was gay? He blinked several times, stared hard at John’s profile, then faced forward. Gay. Huh. Really? He stared out the windshield, not really seeing the scenery as he tried to absorb this new knowledge. Not that it should have mattered because he wasn’t staying but somehow it did. He rubbed his face. “Oh,” he finally said, aware that he should say something but not totally clear on what. Just because Rodney could now openly look didn’t mean anything because he wasn’t staying. And Sheppard was and was definitely not interested in Rodney.

“Yeah.”

“So,” Rodney said after a minute, unable to take the awkward silence, “how long have you lived out here?”

“Few years.” John’s tone was carefully neutral, like he wasn’t sure if Rodney was okay with his sexual orientation. “Inherited it from my mom.”

“Oh. Uh, so . . . she’s . . .?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t good with comfort. Was he supposed to ask how long ago? Or how it happened? Rodney shifted in his seat. “Um, so—” 

Saving him from asking what was sure to be a highly personal and extremely awkward question, John interrupted, “What’re you doing out here?”

“What?”

“Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t seem like the kind of person who’d like the country life.” John glanced sidelong at him.

“Oh, no. God, no. I need a reliable source of WiFi and coffee, at the very least,” Rodney replied instantly.

John chuckled. “Yeah, I figured. So, then, why are you out here?”

“Well,” Rodney paused then asked, “Did I mention my sister?”

“Yeah. Got the feeling you weren’t too happy with her at the moment.”

“Definitely not. You see,” Rodney sighed, “I made the mistake of listening to her advice and, instead of taking a main road or even flying—which I hate but would have made an exception for if I knew what would happen—I took the _scenic route_ and, well, you can see how well that turned out.”

“Yeah, you told me all that last night,” John replied. “But what I don’t know is why you were out here in the first place. Where are you going that this is considered the scenic route?”

Rodney answered, “My colleague and I are presenting at a scientific conference in Denver.”

“Ah.” They drove for a few minutes then John asked, “So I take it you’re meeting your colleague there, then?”

“Mmhmm. I’m supposed to check in this weekend and then next week are the presentations.” Rodney’s mouth twisted. “Now, though . . .”

Sheppard replied, “What are you presenting on?”

Rodney eyed him. “How much do you know about space?”

“What, you mean stars and planets? That kind of stuff?”

“In the most simple of terms, yes.” Great, Rodney thought, mentally dumbing down his explanation. “So, what we’ve been working on is testing the gravitational fields around black holes which is in turn testing general relativity. Black holes have the strongest gravitational fields in the universe, which makes them ideal testing objects. We tested the strength of the gravitational field of accreting black holes by analyzing the X-ray radiation emitted from the inner part of their accretion disks.”

John shot him a sideways look and asked, “Accretion disks?”

Rodney blinked, then realized he was asking for a definition. “An accretion disk is a structure, often circular, that’s been formed by diffuse material that’s in orbital motion around a massive central body, typically a star. Disks spiral inwards towards the central body due to friction amidst the orbiting material. It’s really quite fascinating to watch.”

“Sounds like it,” Sheppard responded, but he didn’t sound fascinated.

Rodney was just getting into his explanation when a sign caught his eye and he twisted to catch it before it was completely out of sight. AURORA FALLS 2 MI, POPULATION: 4285. So there was an actual town up here, huh. So maybe the store was separate from the gas station. Or perhaps there was a decent restaurant that served something other than burgers. Burgers were nice but they got boring after the third such place.

As they entered Aurora Falls, John rolled down his window. The wind whistled past as he slowed to a more reasonable speed, stuck his arm out the window and waved at a few people out and about on the streets. They waved back, some calling greetings. Apparently he was well known here. Rodney studied Sheppard’s profile, wondering . . . several things, actually. He wondered why Sheppard came out here; why he was helping Rodney; why all these people seemed to like him; why he lived so far away from everyone. Rodney didn’t like people, this was true, but he needed civilization. Like he’d told Sheppard, coffee and a reliable internet connection were very important, not just as creature comforts but necessities for his job. 

John turned left and drove a bit before pulling over and parking in front of a pale gray building with one window next to the single door and a large roll-top door. Rodney took that to mean they’d arrived at the mechanic’s garage.

“Here we are,” John announced, hopping out.

With a sigh, Rodney clambered out of the pickup. His feet slid in the slush, forcing him to grab onto the door with both handles to keep from falling on his ass. Rodney scowled then slammed the door shut with slightly more force than necessary. He was starting to wish he was already at the conference and his nice, comfy hotel room instead of in the middle of nowhere without a car. John was already halfway to the door by the time Rodney set foot on the sidewalk.

The waiting room was . . . well, it was clean. Ish. There was a very strong scent of gasoline and grease, however. A metallic grinding noise came from the actual garage area itself. There were a total of two chairs and a front desk with a television on the wall playing some sort of sports game.

John called out, “Todd?” He leaned on the counter, pounded a flattened palm on it a couple times. The metallic noise stopped. “Todd? Hey, it’s John!”

A man called out, “Just a sec!” The noise started back up and Rodney grimaced as it pierced his eardrums.

Rodney crossed his arms and twisted a little to look out the window while they waited. John’s pickup was the only car on the street within view and, across the street, Rodney could see some kitschy little shops open: arts & crafts; furniture; a bookstore. “You sure this guy can fix whatever’s wrong with my car?”

John turned around to face Rodney, leaning his hip against the counter, and told him, “Oh yeah, Todd’s the best mechanic in town. He’ll fix your car up in no time.”

A male voice said amusedly, “I’m also the _only_ mechanic in town.”

Rodney spun back around to see the mechanic coming around the counter. He hadn’t heard the noise stop . . . so then there were two mechanics? Or at least this guy had an assistant. As he rounded the counter to join them, he wiped his hands on a rag which he then shoved into the back pocket of his jeans. He had a black t-shirt on—presumably to hide the grease and oil that no doubt got all over him—and he went right up to John, leaned in, and kissed him.

Rodney’s mouth fell open. Wow, he had not seen that coming. John had said he was gay, but Rodney had sort of assumed that the other guy at John’s place who wasn’t the doctor had been John’s significant other. But he wasn’t? This guy was? There was an odd feeling in his stomach as he stood there, watching John and the mechanic kissing.

The mechanic pulled back first, making a face. “Are you ever going to shave that off?”

John reached up to rub his chin, fingers scraping against the stubble. With a shrug, he said, “I like it. Keeps my face warm.” He grinned, amused by his own joke, apparently.

The mechanic—also apparently John’s _boyfriend_ , Rodney had to remind himself—replied, “Come on, John, you know I don’t like it. It scratches my face every time we kiss. And, honestly, you look better without it.”

Rodney watched John’s expression go completely blank, like Rodney had actually seen the amusement vanish and a figurative wall go up in its place. It was weird, how he could tell that after having known Sheppard barely, what, twelve hours? And it was also weird for Rodney to realize that he didn’t like seeing that blank look on Sheppard’s face. It didn’t feel right. But it wasn’t his place to say anything. He wasn’t dating Sheppard, wasn’t even friends with him.

So why was his mouth moving?

Rodney frantically tried to recall the words, mentally screaming at himself to keep his damn mouth SHUT, but he heard the words come out of his traitorous mouth anyway. “I kinda like it.”

They both turned to face him, like they’d totally forgotten Rodney was there during their little domestic spat. 

And Rodney’s brain to mouth filter _really_ wasn’t working because he continued to speak, adding, “I think it looks good on you.” Then, because he hadn’t already fucked up enough, Rodney’s gaze slid to John and he blinked in surprise. The mental swearing in his head went abruptly silent because—

John was staring at him. And he had a faint smile on his face, a new softness in his eyes as they met Rodney’s. Something twisted in Rodney’s gut. _Oh._ So that was why his mouth had defied all sense of logic to speak up. Because the blank expression had disappeared and Rodney had put that smile on John’s face. Huh. He knew basically nothing about Sheppard and yet had known that he’d been hurt by his boyfriend’s comment _and_ made him feel better.

That all passed through Rodney’s mind in the heartbeat before the boyfriend crossed his arms, raised an eyebrow, and demanded, “And who, exactly, are you?”

Rodney swallowed. Oops. Right. Boyfriend. Fuck. He opened his mouth but this time, of course, nothing came out and he closed his mouth with a soft click.

John smoothly stepped forward in the silence, a restraining hand on his boyfriend’s arm. “Todd, this is Dr. Rodney McKay. Science, not medicine,” he added with a wink Rodney’s way. “He’s the owner of the car I called you about earlier.”

Rodney felt himself flush a little. Was that flirting or was that thanks for the compliment?

“Rodney,” John continued, “this is Todd Beacon. The town mechanic and all around car whisperer.”

“It’s—it’s not mine. I—I rented it . . . actually,” Rodney interjected, a little off balance by the whole situation. He’d complimented John—had he been flirting? And then John winked at him. That had been flirty. Right? Winking was usually considered flirty, or at least acknowledgement of something going on between two people. So, by that definition, John had been flirting. With Rodney. In front of his boyfriend. Which begged the question, was John just a flirty guy? But, no, that couldn’t be it. John hadn’t been at all flirty last night, hadn’t been anything other than concerned about a stranger who wound up at his house.

So then why was Rodney feeling all warm?

“Oh, yeah,” Todd said, nodding his head and lowering his hands. He looped an arm around John’s waist, reading as proprietary to Rodney’s mind. “Sorry to tell you, but you really did a number on your car.”

Rodney asked, “How bad is it?”

“Well, good news is, it’s fixable. Bad news is, I don’t have the parts in my shop right now. I’ll have to special order ‘em.”

“How long will that take?” Rodney asked in dismay.

Todd shrugged. “Depends on weather and road conditions, where I can get them from. Could take only a couple days or it could be longer.”

Rodney’s stomach sank. Fuck. So much for making the conference. “I’m supposed to be in Denver this weekend.”

“Sorry,” Todd replied, not sounding sorry at all. “Hope you got a place to stay.”

“You don’t have, like, a replacement car or something I can use until you get my car fixed?”

Todd shook his head. “Not a big enough place for that sort of thing.”

Rodney sighed, rubbed his face. Fuck.

John nudged Rodney’s foot with his, the scuffed boot at odds with Rodney’s worn sneakers. Rodney looked up and John said, “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll help you find a place. There’s an inn here in town. We can see if they’ve got a room for you.”

Rodney nodded. He had to figure out how to salvage this. He’d have to see if he could get in touch with Radek, first of all. Make sure he had everything, just in case Rodney couldn’t make it. Find a place with WiFi so he could maybe attend via video chat. If the worst occurred, perhaps there was a way for him to give his presentation virtually. But there were so many panels he’d been looking forward to attending, mainly so he could dissect them and inform the so-called scientist where they’d gone wrong, but he was supposed to be a part of several of his own. Dammit, the worst had better not happen. Rodney had counted on being able to present in person so he could rub it in Tunney’s face that he’d solved it first! Well, he amended, he and Radek had solved it first, but semantics. Who was in charge of programming again?

“Hey, I gotta get back to work. Jack’s been waiting on this. See you later?” Todd leaned in to kiss John on the cheek, paused, then switched to a brief press of his mouth to John’s. Rodney fought the urge to stick his foot in any more than he already had. He had no right to insert himself into John’s relationship . . . . even if he didn’t like it. 

John nodded and watched him head back to the garage area then turned to Rodney with an unreadable expression. “Sorry about the bad news. Why don’t we go check on that inn, yeah?”

Rodney didn’t have much hope for this so-called _inn_ , but John hadn’t steered him wrong yet. Even if he had bad taste in men. Or maybe it was just Rodney’s presence. He did tend to rub people the wrong way. Although, John hadn’t seemed to mind Rodney’s typical bluntness, not that John _knew_ that that was how Rodney normally was. Rodney followed John back out to the truck, lifting himself up and into the seat as he thought about this. If nothing else, it would keep him distracted from worrying about whether or not he’d make it to the conference in time.


	3. Chapter Three

The New Athos Inn was the best place in town, so, naturally, that was where John headed. Yeah, they had a couple other little places but this was the best. And from the little he knew so far about McKay, he had a feeling the guy would prefer a full on hotel over anything else but hopefully the inn would be acceptable. If not, then they’d turn to the B&B’s or even asking around for an extra room that someone wouldn’t mind renting out for a couple days. John chewed the inside of his cheek as he glanced at Rodney out of the corner of his eye, feeling the need to apologize for Todd’s behavior. He really hadn’t expected the two of them to be at odds like that. John smiled faintly to himself. Rodney had clearly wished he hadn’t spoken up but John was grateful he had. He liked the scruff and it had hurt when Todd thought he didn’t look good with it. Hearing Rodney _did_ , though, had been nice.

Nicer than he’d thought it would feel, surprisingly. He realized he was rubbing his chin and made a conscious effort to lower his hand.

John pulled into the little parking lot next to the inn and led the way inside, Rodney right behind him. It was a three-story red-brick building, with beautiful landscaping in the summer months but it was currently covered in snow. Still, when the sun hit it, it sparkled. A wreath still hung on the front door as John jogged up the steps to the porch, nodding to the couple sitting in the chairs to the right. Inside, sun shone through the windows, illuminating the lobby. A wood counter doubling as the front desk was to the immediate right, with boxes and hooks on the walls for keys and such. Just past the desk was a door to a sitting room, more doors down the hall, a staircase, and more doors on the other side of the hall. John hit the bell.

Moments later, a middle-aged man with shoulder-length brown hair came down the hall. He smiled brightly when he saw them. “John! Good morning, my friend!”

John returned the smile. Halling was a good guy. Extending a hand, Halling took John’s in both of his and they both bowed their heads for a moment before lifting them. “Morning, Halling. Let me introduce you to Rodney. He’s new in town.”

Halling held out his hands to Rodney who gave John a quick look before stretching out a hand. He inclined his head just barely enough to call it a nod then pulled his hand back just as quickly. John hid a smile as Halling turned back to him and asked, “What brings you to my humble establishment, John?”

“Well,” John said, sliding his hands into his pockets, “Rodney’s having some car trouble and it’s in the shop. Todd’s working on it but it could take a few days to get replacement parts so it looks like Rodney’s gonna need somewhere to stay in the meantime. You wouldn’t happen to have a room he could use for a couple days, would you?”

Halling’s smile faded and he shook his head. “I am sorry, my friend, but I do not. I had a large family come in yesterday and they took the last of my empty rooms. Short of giving up my bed or my son’s, I am afraid I cannot help you in this. My apologies, my friends.”

John shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I know you’re busy. And we don’t want to put you or Jinto out.” _Damn._ He started running through next-best stops in his head.

Halling gave them both a regretful look. “I am truly sorry that I was unable to help you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” John told him. “We’ll check around. I’m sure someone’s got a room available.”

Halling furrowed his brow. “Do you not have room at your home, John?”

_Oh_. John blinked. Why had he not thought about that? He took a moment to let that sit in his mind while Rodney and Halling talked.

Behind him, Rodney asked, dubious, “Is this really the only hotel-like place in town?”

Patient as ever, Halling replied, “There are a couple of smaller bed and breakfasts but I believe they are also full. We get a lot of couples and families with children on break from school."

John crossed his arms and mulled it over. Rodney had already spent one night there and they’d survived. And it wouldn’t be _too_ long, surely, to get the car parts in. He tipped his head to the side and furrowed his brow, trying to see a downside. He turned back around and told Rodney, “I don’t have Wi-Fi.”

Rodney stared at him. “You . . . don’t have WiFi.”

John shook his head. “I’ve got internet but it’s only connected to my desktop.”

“Can I use your desktop, then? Because I will have to email my colleague and that does require an internet connection.”

John shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Rodney nodded. “That’s doable.”

This was a bit too easy. “And I don’t have reliable cell service,” he continued, determined to get it all out there. “There’re maybe three spots on the whole ranch that have service. I mean, I don’t even have a cell; it's why we have radios. But there’s the landline if you really need to call someone.”

“Like my sister, to let her know I’m not dead.”

John smiled briefly. “Yeah, like that.”

Rodney’s mouth twisted and he tapped his fingers of one hand against his forearm. John’s gaze was drawn to it, to the rhythmic movement. “I suppose I could work with that. I did sleep surprisingly well on your bed. And you have good coffee. That’s important.”

John felt the need to point out one more thing. “I run the ranch. Yeah, I’ve got help, but it’s my place and I’m not going to be around all the time. I have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it in. I’m not going to be at your beck and call and you’ll probably be the only one in the house until nightfall.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Rodney bristled. “I need a place to stay until your boyfriend fixes my rental.”

A muscle in John’s jaw twitched at his tone. Rodney clearly didn’t have a good opinion of Todd. And John didn’t think Todd liked Rodney, either. John studied McKay, still thinking it over. Was this a good idea? He truly had no idea but short of banging on every door in town to see if there was a room available, this was it. John sighed and finally offered, “Look, if you think you can deal with all that, then the room’s yours for as long as you need it.”

Rodney blinked at him, surprise etched in every line of his face. “Really? Because I kind of got the impression that you didn’t want me to stay.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just—” John blew out his breath, getting irritated with the whole situation now. “Look, do you want the room or not?”

“Yes,” Rodney quickly answered, nodding several times. “I want it, yes.”

“Alright. Then, it’s settled.” John looked at Halling. “Thanks for your time. I know you’re busy with a full house.”

Halling smiled warmly and bowed his head. “It is always good to see you, my friend. Be well, John, Rodney.”

John nodded. “You, too.” He and Rodney headed outside in silence and sat in the pickup for a couple minutes, before John said, “Look, I have a few errands to run while we’re in town, if you don’t mind tagging along. Then we can head back and get you fully settled in, if that’s okay?”

Rodney replied, “I don’t mind. And, um, thanks. For letting me stay with you.”

John put the truck in gear. “Yep.” 

* * *

Rodney gamely tagged along with John’s errands as he’d agreed to, but he grumbled under his breath throughout most of it. What about, John wasn’t super certain. He got the feeling McKay didn’t really like Aurora Falls all that much but it was hard as he was only getting every fourth word or so. John bit back the need to respond in defense of his adopted home, realizing quickly that McKay didn’t really need him to respond. He just kept talking whether John acknowledged it or not. So he didn’t and it kind of became a buzz of background noise.

“Hey, Sheppard, be with you in a sec!” Jack greeted John as he entered the hardware store, McKay on his heels. Jack went back to his phone call, leaning over the desk to scribble something down.

Rodney asked, “How many errands do you _have_? Why can’t you do all this another day? I’m starving.”

“Hey, Jack!” John lifted a hand in a greeting of his own then said to McKay, “We’ll get lunch after this, alright? Quit complaining.”

McKay scowled at him. “I have hypoglycemia. Do you know what that is? It _means_ that I have to eat something every few hours. If I don’t, I get shaky, anxious, lightheaded, I could pass out. Hell, I could have a seizure!” he continued without allowing John a chance to respond. His answer would have been _no_ , anyway, but still. Rude. John couldn’t get a handle on this guy. He was quiet and vulnerable one minute, loud and overbearing and just plain rude the next.

Plus there was that little moment back in the garage . . . . “Alright!” John shook his head to dislodge whatever odd feelings that memory was stirring up. “Look, I told you, we’ll get something to eat after this, okay? I just gotta pick up some lumber.”

Jack approached them, hands on his hips, and looked between the two of them. He raised an eyebrow at John. “Sheppard. Good to see ya. Was starting to wonder if I needed to work a delivery into my schedule.”

“Yeah,” John replied, “I was in town so I figured I’d save both of us a trip. You got everything?”

“Yup.” Jack thumbed over his shoulder. “Right this way.”

John glanced at Rodney briefly. “Be right back.”

Rodney waved a hand absently, already drifting away to look at something. “Uh huh.”

John shook his head before following Jack down the aisle. Guess he wasn’t gonna help carry. Not that he was all that surprised. 

Jack looked over his shoulder then said blandly, “Thought you were dating Beacon.”

John said, a tad warily, “I am.”

“Right.” They took a corner, heading for the back. “So the new guy is . . .?”

John scowled at Jack’s back, already sick of the explanation. “He crashed his car down the road from my place last night. Todd’s fixing it but it’s gonna take a few days and, in the meantime, McKay’s staying at the ranch. Nothing more to tell.”

“Ah,” Jack said with another bland look that managed to speak volumes. John set his jaw and kept his expression neutral. Jack pushed open a door and then they were outside in the lumber yard. “So I got everything you asked for all neatly tied up here. Forgot the bow, though, unless you really want one.”

“Funny.” They each grabbed an end, lifting a handful of fence posts and resting it on their shoulders as they headed back through the store. Rodney was still up front and John called out, “Hey, McKay, can you get the door?”

Rodney twisted around at the call then his eyes widened and he darted over to the front door. Pushing it, he stepped outside and around to the side, holding the door wide as John and Jack walked past him. Walking over to John’s pickup, parked on the sidewalk, they lifted their load up and in, easing it back until it went no further. A few inches stuck out over the lip of the gate but that was fine. They went back in for the next load.

It took them five runs to get all the lumber into the pickup, Rodney holding the door for them each time. When the last of the posts thunked into the truck bed, John wiped his hands on his jeans and tugged out his wallet. “What do I owe you?”

“Oh put that away, Sheppard.”

John looked up in surprise. “But—don’t I owe you?”

Jack crossed his arms and shook his head. “Nope. Save it.”

Something squeezed tight in John’s chest and his grip tightened around the leather of his wallet. Shit. He knew. “Jack . . . ,” he began.

“Nope,” Jack interrupted. “I know you’re in a tough spot, kid.”

“I can still pay my bills,” John retorted, gritting his teeth.

“Yeah, I know. But I also know things are a bit tough for you right now. Once you get your feet back under you, then we’ll settle up.”

Very much aware of Rodney nearby and clearly listening, John worked his jaw back and forth a couple times before sliding his wallet back into his pocket with a bit more force than was necessary. “I’ll pay you back, as soon as I can,” John promised.

Jack shrugged. “No hurry. Say hey to Lorne and the gang for me.” He turned back to his store, waving over his shoulder. “Have fun, kids!”

Rodney raised an eyebrow at John as he hopped up on the tailgate to make sure the lumber was secure. “What was that?”

“What was what?” John asked, shoved against the wood, then, satisfied it wouldn't shift, hopped down and headed around the corner of the pickup. “Come on. You said you were hungry, right?”

John climbed into the truck and started her up. Just what he needed, his personal business out there for everyone to see. And how the hell did Jack know about it? He heard the side door slam as Rodney climbed into the passenger seat.

“Are you in some sort of financial trouble?” Rodney asked as John put the truck in gear and pulled away. “Because I can totally pay you for letting me stay at your place. It’s no trouble. I work for the government and it pays _really_ well and I don’t really have much to spend it on other than my niece and movies so—”

“It’s fine!” John snapped, knuckles tightening on the wheel. “I don’t need your money, alright? Look, do you want lunch now or not?”

* * *

It was with no small bit of relief that John deposited Rodney at the Royal Blue Diner. John had remained silent on the drive and even Rodney had stopped talking, as if he’d realized he’d unknowingly hit a nerve. John scowled out the windshield. Jack, of all people. John couldn’t believe it. If Jack was already refusing to let him pay, who would be next? And how many would then give him that pitying look? God, he hated that look.

John pulled into the little parking lot and into a slot at the diner then shut the truck’s engine off. They sat there for a moment then John said, without looking over, “I have to go somewhere before lunch. You good here on your own til I get back?”

Rodney didn’t reply for a minute. He must have gotten that John wasn’t in a good mood. “Yeah. Go do your thing. As long as this place has decent coffee and a varied menu, I’ll be good.”

“Great.” John shoved the door open and got out. John waited until the door to the diner had swung closed behind Rodney before uttering a string of swear words and kicking a tire. Thankfully, his work boots were thick enough he didn’t injure himself but it was a close thing. He ran his hands through his hair and blew out his breath in a rush. 

Alright. Alright, get it together. McKay didn’t know anything and he wasn’t staying. Jack was just . . . being himself. He looked out for everyone so not taking one payment, that was . . . that was nothing. Nothing that needed to mean anything more than the fact that John had a friend in town. That was it.

Yeah, and pigs flew.

He closed his eyes and ground his teeth together. When he opened them, he was facing the diner, looking in through the windows. A faint smile ticked the corners of his mouth up. Rodney had taken a booth along the far wall and was talking to one of the servers, gesturing wildly at a menu. He was an interesting guy. If nothing else, the next few days would be interesting, for sure.

Now in a slightly better mood, John set off down the street, crossing a couple blocks before winding up at his destination: an older building with an imposing façade. With a bracing breath, John jogged up the few steps and pushed inside.

He made his way to the right side of the lobby and stopped in front of a desk manned by a young woman who looked up with a welcoming smile as he approached. “Hi,” he said, dredging up a polite smile of his own. “I’m John Sheppard. I have an appointment.”

“Okay, Mr. Sheppard,” she replied, reaching for her phone. “Let me see if they’re ready for you.”

“Thanks.” John rolled his shoulders, mentally bracing himself for the talk to come.

* * *

Rodney could not understand why it was so hard for these people to understand he had an allergy. No, he did not want a lemon wedge in his water. No, he did not want lemon juice in his food. He just wanted coffee. And something that wasn’t a burger but lunch would have to wait until Sheppard returned from whatever errand he was on that he didn’t want Rodney to come with. He may have been hungry but there was nothing more uncomfortable than sitting across from someone who was eating and having nothing to do but stare at them. So, no matter how many pointed looks he got from the staff, he wasn’t going to order anything but coffee and a muffin to tide him over until John arrived.

As he waited, Rodney thought about what he’d seen of the town he’d wound up stuck in. There were a lot of do-it-yourself types of places. And a lot of people knew Sheppard. Like, _a lot_. And he had the feeling that there were things going on that he wasn’t privy to and that Sheppard didn’t want him to know. Like why he kept trying to cut people off when they were picking things up from the stores. And why he got all weird with the lumber guy and the bill. Was Sheppard in financial trouble? He had gotten rather touchy when Rodney brought it up, which led him to believe that was a yes. Yet he refused to let Rodney pay for his stay.

Sheppard was an enigma. An incredibly handsome, sadly taken, enigma. It gave him plenty to think about as he sat there. He was nearly finished with his second cup of coffee when Sheppard slid onto the booth bench opposite, tossing his coat over the back. Rodney studied him, surprised that he could see the tense set to his shoulders, in his jawline. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Sheppard rubbed his face. There was a shadow in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Yes,” he said flatly. “You ordered yet?”

“No.” Rodney frowned. “I was waiting for you.”

“Really?” He looked faintly surprised. “Uh, thanks.” Sheppard looked around, raised a hand to summon a server, then asked, “What do you want? Lunch is on me.”

“Oh.” Rodney wasn’t sure that was a good idea if he was having money troubles but he really didn’t feel like making Sheppard angry and losing his lodgings. “Um, well, I was looking at the menu and . . . honestly is there anything that _isn’t_ a burger? I am so sick of hamburgers.”

“You don’t like burgers?”

“No, I do. Just not all the time.”

“Why not try something else on the menu?”

“Because hamburgers are usually the only item that is guaranteed not to have anything extra mixed in and I have to be very careful about what I eat.”

The waitress who’d been giving Rodney most of the pointed looks walked over before John could ask him to elaborate, a coffeepot in hand. “Hey, Mr. Sheppard. Coffee?”

“Yeah.” Sheppard glanced at Rodney and added, “And a refill for my friend, here.”

“Sure thing.” Rodney happily slid his mug forward so she could fill his after John’s. Once both mugs were full, she asked, “You know what you want or do you need a minute to look over the menu?”

Sheppard glanced at Rodney again then asked the waitress, “Laura still back there?”

“Sure is. You want me to ask her to come out?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll see her later. Can you ask her to make us two of her Royal specials?”

The waitress raised an eyebrow but nodded. “I’ll put your order in.”

As she left, Rodney asked, “What’s a Royal special and is there citrus in it?”

Sheppard frowned. “It’s something Laura likes to make her favorite customers, of which I am one. Why do you wanna know about citrus?”

“I did tell you I’m careful about what I eat, right?”

“Yeah. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

“No, no you don’t understand. I am deathly allergic to citrus. All kinds of citrus, like if even a hint of lemon juice is in my food, I will have a reaction. Like, my throat swells up and I _die_ sort of allergic reaction,” Rodney answered emphatically. “So if this—this Royal special has lemon or anything in it, I’d really like to know so I can be sure to have my epi-pen ready.”

Both eyebrows raised, Sheppard replied, “Okay, good to know. First hypoglycemia and now a serious allergy to citrus? Anything else?”

Rodney scowled. “I’m not making this up.”

“Didn’t think you were.” Sheppard said calmly. “And to answer your question, no. There’s no lemon in the special.”

“And the special is . . .?” Rodney pressed.

Sheppard leaned back against the booth. “You’ll see. Trust me.”

Rodney pointed at him. “See, now I’m not sure I want this.”

“You said you didn’t want a burger, right?” He shrugged, his shoulders more relaxed than they had been when he arrived. “I can guarantee this is not a burger. Just trust me; you’ll like it.”

Rodney frowned but relented, drinking his coffee. He didn’t normally trust anyone but Sheppard had this way about him. Rodney studied him as surreptitiously as he could, which went better than usual because Sheppard was no longer paying attention to him.

Sheppard was looking out the window, both hands wrapped around his cup though he didn’t drink much. Rodney got the feeling that Sheppard’s mind was a million miles away. And he had that feeling again, the one he’d had in the mechanic’s shop. He found himself wracking his brain to find something to say that would lift that shadow still lingering in John’s eyes but he didn’t know enough about the man to know what to say. He’d gotten lucky back at the mechanic’s. Here? If he knew where John had gone, maybe he could come up with something. Rodney drank his coffee, wondering what was in the air of this town that made him want to do that.

The silence stretched until the waitress arrived with their meals. She set down a plate in front of each of them and asked, “Anything else?”

John replied, “No, thanks, Dahlia. I think we’re good.”

“Throw a hand in the air if you need anything,” she said and left.

Rodney pulled his plate closer and leaned in to inspect the lunch John had ordered for him. There was a large bowl full of steaming hot chili topped with what looked like at least two different kinds of cheese. The rest of the plate was filled with sweet potato fries and some crackers if he wanted to add them to the chili. He looked up to see John watching him expectantly.

“Chili?” he asked.

John gave him a quick smile and reached for the crackers, crumpling them up in the package before dropping them over the chili. “See? Not a burger.”

Rodney reached for his spoon and took a tentative bite. Flavor exploded on his tongue and he let out an involuntary moan, closing his eyes. _Oh._ Oh, that was good. Laura was a genius with food. And he so needed this recipe. Opening his eyes to find John staring at him, an odd look on his face, Rodney swallowed and answered, “This is really good chili.”

“Sounds like it,” John responded, voice sounding a bit strangled.

Rodney frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Glad you like it. Told you to trust me.”

Rodney took another bite and closed his eyes. Oh that was so good. He focused on his food, eating with a single-minded intensity that was interspersed with occasional sounds that indicated just how much he enjoyed it. He had a feeling he was going to become addicted to Laura’s cooking, if the three meals he’d had of hers were any indication. Mouth full of sweet potato, Rodney asked John, “Are you done with your errands?”

John swallowed and asked, “You wanna try that again, without the mouthful of food?”

Rodney chewed quickly, swallowed and repeated his question.

John’s mood dropped, that tenseness returning. “Yeah. Gotta get back anyway.”

Rodney nodded and they finished lunch in silence. Dahlia came by to pick up the plates and drop off the check. Rodney tried to see it—he kept track of finances so he could get reimbursed by the government, and if John had financial troubles, he could help—but John snatched it up before he could. He pulled out some cash, stuck it under the salt shaker on the table then grabbed his coat and got up.

John weaved easily through the tables to the counter, leaned over to talk to someone behind it, then headed for the door. Rodney hurriedly followed suit, hoping John wasn’t thinking of leaving him behind. He’d been there before. Once outside, John led the way to his pickup then turned to Rodney and asked, “You need anything while we’re here? I usually come in once a week, twice tops. Too much work to do to make it more than that.”

Rodney quickly ran through what he’d packed in his mind. He had plenty of clothing, though most of it was a bit more formal than a ranch required. He didn’t use hotel toiletries—several bad reactions on several separate occasions had led to that. Other than that . . . “No,” he finally said, aware that he’d made John wait. “I think I’m good for now. If that changes—”

“If that changes, let me know.” John looked up at the sky and grimaced. “Weather’s turning, again. We’d better get going.”

* * *

Rodney spent most of the afternoon going through his suitcases and unpacking, sorting through what he needed now—like his sweaters, t-shirts, jeans—versus what he’d packed for the conference—suits and khakis and the like. He debated moving his toiletries to the bathroom then decided not to. He didn’t want to give Sheppard a reason to kick him out. Then he spent a solid two hours wandering the length of the ranch house in search of enough service that he could get a phone call through with a decent enough connection. Without having to go outside.

Jeannie found it all highly entertaining, of course, once he managed to get hold of her. The one spot he’d managed to locate was in a corner by the back wall of windows. Chilly but still inside. However, there wasn’t enough of a connection for a video chat like he’d have preferred. You know, so she could see just how irritated with her he actually was instead of just hearing it in his voice. It took a bit of the satisfaction out of it.

Radek, though, had a much more satisfying reaction. Rodney wasn’t sure if John had been serious about allowing him to use his computer whenever so he was trying to use his phone to send Radek the data and talking points for the first panel Q&A which Rodney was certain to miss. “God, it’s worse than dial-up out here,” he muttered at one point. “And I didn’t think _anything_ could be worse than dial-up internet.”

He tried uploading it to his Google drive so he could just share it with Radek but even that wasn’t working. Eventually, after much frustration, Rodney hung up the phone after promising to contact Radek tomorrow. Since he couldn’t get the internet to cooperate with his phone or laptop, Rodney settled in the comfy armchair by the fire to work on some of his other projects. Just because he was presenting on one didn’t mean he didn’t have other projects in progress. He had at least five on his laptop he could work on and he knew he’d feel better after some work. 

Laura arrived at one point, he knew only because her voice was the first sound he’d heard that wasn’t his keyboard or his muttering under his breath. Soon, the most delicious smells started wafting out to where he sat and he finally couldn’t focus anymore, what with the sounds coming from his stomach. He drifted out to the kitchen under the pretense of refilling his coffee and found himself drafted into helping cook dinner for everyone, whoever “everyone” was. When the food was nearly done, Laura opened the back door and rang a large bell that apparently hung on the wall just outside the back door. Rodney winced at the loud sound, covering his ears. When Laura came back in, he asked, “What the hell is that for?”

“To let the guys know the food’s ready and to come in.” She went over to the stove and stirred. “You wanna set the table? Silverware’s in the drawers out there, plates in the cupboard over the coffeemaker.”

“Guys?” 

“Yeah. The guys. You know, the ones we’re making dinner for?”

Great. “Okay, so then how many people do I need to set a place for?” he asked, moving to open the cupboard.

Laura tasted the gravy. “Mmm, let’s see. You. Me. John, Evan, Ronon. Probably not Aiden. He doesn’t usually stay for dinner unless the weather’s bad. So that makes . . . five?”

Rodney hadn’t recognized half the names she threw out and resigned himself to yet more people staring at him that he didn’t know. He grabbed five plates and headed out to the dining room where he was beset with another conundrum. There were eight chairs at the table. Did they have assigned spots? Did John sit at the head because it was his house? Did it matter? He decided on setting a place at the head then the two spots on either side. If they didn’t like it, they could move.

He was setting silverware at each setting when the noise level shot up along with a burst of cold air. Several men were talking and laughing, Rodney could hear them stomping their boots on the floor. Laura was talking, too, but her words were drowned out by laughter and what sounded like good-natured teasing.

Then John stepped out into the dining room, still wearing his coat, and shaking his head with a smile lingering. He looked happy. Like, the kind of joyous happy that Rodney had never experienced. Rodney swallowed hard, gripping his handful of silverware tight, and grateful he was on the other side of the table because his jeans were suddenly tight. John’s face was flushed and there was a spark in his eyes that Rodney hadn’t seen yet. Seriously, life was just too damn unfair sometimes. John noticed him then and grinned at him. “Hey, McKay. Everything good?”

Rodney nodded. “Yeah. I was helping Laura with everything. She’s not bad. Actually kind of smart.”

John chuckled. “Yeah, she’s pretty awesome. I’m gonna hit the head; be right back.” John shrugged out of his coat as he went through the other door, giving Rodney a great view of his behind.

Fuck, this was going to be a difficult next couple of days. He could only pray his car was fixed quickly so he didn’t have to lust after what he could never have for long.

Three men piled through the door into the dining room not long after that, saving Rodney from his thoughts. One of them, the tallest one with dreadlocks, ignored Rodney as he reached for a roll in the basket on the table. He stuffed it in his mouth and reached for another. Another looked like he was barely out of college and he reached for a roll as well, pausing to slather it in butter before taking a healthy bite. It was noisy and chaotic and Rodney wondered, for a moment, if they’d made enough food for all of them. Laura and yet another man came out and set platters of food on the table, Laura slapping the man with the dreadlocks on the hand as he tried to take some off the platter.

“Hey! Use the silverware, caveman!” Laura told him. The younger man laughed.

Sheppard stepped back into the room at that point, having divested himself of his coat. “Oh hey, Laura. Need a hand with the food?”

“No, Evan got the rest of it.”

So these were “the guys,” hmm? Rodney thought in distaste. And by “guys,” he assumed that these were the other people who worked on the ranch with John. They were all jocks, definitely, which meant Rodney could count on the conversation to be mainly sports-related. He sighed. These were definitely _not_ his people.

“Hey, boss?” the young man suddenly said. “You get a new ranch hand?”

Everyone turned to look at Rodney, who felt his face start to heat.

Sheppard said, “Oh, yeah. Guys, meet Rodney McKay. He’s staying here until Todd fixes his car. Rodney, meet the guys.” He tossed a thumb towards each of them in turn. 

“The kid here is Aiden Ford.” The young man waved. “He’s not staying for dinner, though, and he’d better get a move on or his grandparents will call me,” John added with a pointed look at the young man. 

Ford rolled his eyes but headed for the door with a wave and a “See you tomorrow, boss!”

Sheppard shook his head, a small smile on his face, and continued his introductions. “The one with half a bread roll sticking out of his mouth is Ronon Dex.” The man with the dreadlocks grunted.

“And this is Evan Lorne, whom you may have seen last night.” The man who’d helped Laura with the platters nodded his greeting. Now that it was mentioned, Rodney did think the man looked familiar. Maybe he helped Sheppard get his suitcases from the car?

“Alright,” Laura said, moving to the head of the table and pulling the chair out. “Now that everyone knows each other, eat before it gets cold.”

There was more noise as chairs scraped, dishes clattered, food was passed around and Rodney found himself seated next to John on his right and Lorne across from him. 

It was an interesting meal, to say the least. There was lots of loud conversation and joking interspersed with actual eating. Rodney caught the one, Lorne, studying him from time to time but John and the others just seemed to act like he wasn’t there. It was weird and yet, the lack of sniping or words dripping with subtext was nice. Rodney didn’t feel the need to be on his guard, to have a prepared response.

They all helped clean up afterwards then moved to the living room for what felt like social hour times five. Rodney settled in with his computer, only half listening to things. As the hours went by, one by one, they left. Laura was the first to bid them all good night. Ronon left next, saying something about him having the furthest to go? Rodney didn’t understand since he went out the patio doors. Lorne and John had a quiet conversation off by themselves, then Lorne left.

Leaving just him and John. Then even John headed upstairs, putting out the fire and telling Rodney to shut the lights off when he came up. Rodney only waved a hand briefly in acknowledgement, focused as he was on the work. He was on a roll and didn’t want to break it off to do something as silly as go to bed early. Well, early for him. And so it was just him and his computer and the half empty cup of cold coffee as the night wore on.


	4. Chapter Four

There was a note waiting for Rodney on the dining room table when he made his way downstairs for coffee the next morning. He’d woken up around eight with an idea that could help bridge the gaps in one of his theories so he’d spent the last hour and a half in bed with his laptop, working to get it down before it disappeared. He only glanced at the paper before walking into the kitchen. Laura wasn’t there, he noted with a faint frown. That was disappointing. He filled a mug then wandered back out to the table, drinking as he leaned over to read the note.

It was from John. And there was a small handheld radio next to it. Rodney scanned it quickly. Basically, it reiterated what Rodney had been told yesterday: use the computer in the office if he needed internet, feel free to make himself at home, and use the radio to contact them if Rodney needed anything. Rodney picked up the radio with the hand not holding his coffee and inspected it. He’d honestly expected it to be the most basic, cheap model out there, but this one was a brand he’d heard of. It probably had a good range, though Rodney hoped he wouldn’t have to test that. It had a clip on the back so Rodney hooked it onto his belt, sliding it around until it didn’t poke him in the side and wandered back into the kitchen in search of something to make for breakfast.

Since he still didn’t know the spots that gave cell service, Rodney decided his morning would be better off spent trying to reach Radek from indoors rather than have to go out in the cold and wander around praying for a few bars. He went back upstairs, grabbed his laptop, then headed back downstairs where he started opening doors and investigating the house in search of John’s office. John’s note had not given him any sort of direction, of course. Rodney finally found what he assumed was the office behind a door next to the stairs.

At any rate, there were a couple file cabinets, a desk, and a computer desktop monitor. Oh, and there was the landline John mentioned. Rodney stood in the doorway for a long moment, looking at the offerings with dismay and reluctance. Eventually he made himself walk in and set his laptop on the desk. The monitor wasn’t _old_ , per se, but it sure wasn’t new. It wasn’t even on, for god’s sakes! To say nothing of having a landline as the only option.

While he waited for it to boot up, Rodney took the opportunity to look around. John had said he could, after all. There were a couple of photos on the desk. Rodney picked one up to look at it. It showed John outside a tent with four other guys, all in tan t-shirts and laughing. He thought that one of them might be Evan but the other two hadn’t been at dinner last night. He set it back down and picked up the other photo. This one showed a smiling woman standing in front of a house with her arms around two young boys who were very clearly brothers, surrounded by blue sky and green grass. They looked happy. Rodney wondered if one of the boys was John and, if so, was that his family with him?

_He was a cute kid_ , Rodney thought and set the frame down. He glanced at the computer to see if it was powered up yet and found himself looking at a desktop filled with icons. What the—Sheppard didn’t lock his computer?! Who didn’t lock their computers? Anyone could get in! That was why Rodney’s computers were all password-protected, doubly so for his research. On the off chance someone actually did manage to crack his password and get into his computer, all of his research files required further authentication to open them and some of them—the ones ready for publishing or presenting—were also encrypted. No way in hell was Rodney going to let anyone take his work.

The background was a fighter jet on a runway. Interesting choice. He kind of figured John would have a barn or cowboy-related image as his computer background. Not a fighter jet. He opened up a Chrome browser, hoping the internet connection was a little newer than the computer itself. And, if he was being honest, Rodney really hoped he wasn’t about to hear that ancient beep and chug sound that indicated John had dial-up internet.

Thankfully, the browser opened up with no sound but the home page itself took longer. “Oh for the love of god,” he muttered and went back to looking around the room. 

The file cabinets stood against the wall to Rodney’s left. He fought the urge to get up and go through them. He felt sure that would be crossing some sort of line. Besides, they were probably just full of bills and other assorted boring documents. Rodney twisted the chair around to another part of the room and saw a Johnny Cash poster next to a _Return of the Jedi_ movie poster and a . . . Rodney scowled. The third poster was for the _Back to the Future_ series. Alright, so Sheppard was a geek with questionable taste, although he approved of the _Star Wars_ poster. _Empire_ was his favorite but _Return_ was a solid second choice.

Twisting back around, he saw the page had finally loaded so he typed in the URL for his email and then settled in. First order of business: get an uplink going between his laptop and the desktop so he could use Sheppard’s internet connection to email Radek what he needed in case Rodney missed part of the conference. He made a mental note to see if John’s computer had a webcam because that was an option if he needed it, to make an appearance if he was still stuck here by the time his presentation slot came around. 

He sincerely hoped that it wasn’t needed, but the option was there.

* * *

The nail sprung free from the wood with a jerk, sending John stumbling back a step or two before he caught himself. He tugged it free of the hammer and dropped it in the bucket he and Evan were using. Taking a moment to look around at the row of fence posts, John asked, “You think we’ve got enough to replace all this?”

Evan, working on digging out one of the vertical posts they were replacing, paused, stuck the shovel in the ground and swiped his hand across his forehead. He looked around as well. “Should be good with what you got from Jack’s store. And it’s not like we have to replace the entire paddock’s fence; just this stretch of it.” He grinned and added, “If we need it, I think there’s some chicken wire in one of the barns.”

John rolled his eyes then stepped back up to the post. “I can’t believe we have to replace this much of it. It wasn’t nearly this bad last winter.” He slid the back end of the hammer between the slat and the post and started working it back and forth to loosen it enough to get at the nail.

“Yeah,” Evan agreed, his words a bit more labored as he returned to work as well. “The weather has not been kind to us this year.”

“Nothing has,” John muttered. The post was fine, thankfully, despite the fact that it was now at such an angle as to be useless, but the slats were broken. And that wasn’t good if they wanted to use the pasture. Hence the replacement project. He hooked the hammer on the nail head, braced his foot against the bottom of the post for some added leverage, and pulled. The nail popped free and the slat hit the ground, narrowly missing John’s foot.

“So,” Evan asked as John hauled the cracked board over to join the others. “How’s the roommate situation working out?”

“Huh? What roo—oh.” John dropped the board on the pile and headed back to the post. “You mean McKay.”

“Of course I mean McKay,” Evan said with a laugh. “Who else would I mean? So how are things? He seems like a pain in the ass to me.”

“Yeah, he kinda is.”

“Kinda?”

John lifted a shoulder as he retraced his steps. “I don’t know, he is and he isn’t.”

“Riiight,” Evan drawled. “That makes sense.”

John grinned at him and replied, “Kinda like you’re a pain in my ass sometimes but other times you’re not.”

Evan threw a handful of snow at him. John dodged it, laughing. “Come on, get real. You two okay up there in the main house? You need me to move in?”

“Nah, we’re good.” John picked up his hammer. “I was gone before he got up both days and he helped Laura with dinner last night. No need for you to go all overprotective on me. Besides, he’ll be gone soon.”

“Alright.”

John crouched down, settling his weight on his haunches as he started working on the bottom slat, working the nail head back and forth. Wood cracked around it as he did. Looked like the wood was starting to rot, as well.

“So let me ask you something,” Evan continued, going back to his work on the post.

“Shoot.”

“Did you even try to find another place after Halling turned you down?”

“What?”

“John, I’ve known you a long time and you do not share your personal space lightly or easily. Now you’re letting McKay stay with you indefinitely and seem to have no problems with it. You can see how I’d be concerned about that.”

Hammer wedged in between the slat and the post, John sighed and glanced over. “Did I not just tell you there was no need for this?”

Evan leaned on his shovel. “John. What is it about this guy?”

John shifted his weight, trying for a better angle. “I don’t know, he’s . . . he’s different.”

“Different,” Evan repeated and John could _hear_ the raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

“You wanna elaborate on that?”

John sighed. The damn nail wasn’t budging but at least it gave him something to work on so Evan couldn’t read his expression, especially considering John had no idea what was showing. He liked McKay but that could also be because he was unlike anyone he’d met in Aurora Falls. “He’s different,” John replied, knowing there was an edge to his voice and praying Evan didn’t call him on it. “I don’t know how else to explain it, Evan.” 

But he did. He could say that McKay had high maintenance written all over him but John didn’t really believe that. Sure, he had high expectations but just because John didn’t, that didn’t mean Rodney was high maintenance. He knew what he wanted and needed and, well, confidence had always been something John was drawn to in a person. And if McKay was telling the truth about his medical conditions, then he had good reason to be like that. And McKay was smart, really smart because John had a degree in advanced mathematics and he didn’t understand a damn word Rodney had said in the car on the way to town.

John liked smart. And confident. Yet there was also that hint of vulnerability that peeked out from time to time that drew John in. And the way McKay seemed to know when John was unhappy and actually tried that one time to make him feel better.

“I see,” Evan said quietly, drawing John out of his thoughts.

John looked up at that. “See what?”

“You like him.”

John opened his mouth to say . . . something. That he was dating someone and he couldn’t like someone else. That he wasn’t sure if he really liked Rodney at all. Happily, though, he didn’t have to come up with something due to the sound of both of their radios crackling.

“Um, hello? John? It’s Rodney. Rodney McKay? Um, Christ, I don’t know the range of these radios or where you even are but um, yeah. Can you actually hear me through this thing?”

John ducked his head to hide the smile that spread across his face. There was that uncertainty mixed with bluster and the fact that Rodney gave his full name, like John had forgotten it. Yeah, that was . . . John did not think it was adorable. At all. That definitely was not the word that just popped into John’s head. Getting to his feet, John set the hammer on top of the post, plucked the radio off his hip and brought it to his mouth, thumbing the talk button. “Yeah, McKay, I read you. What’s up?”

“Um, well, there’s a guy at the door who wants to talk to you. He says it’s urgent.”

Nonplussed, John met Evan’s gaze and shrugged. No idea who it could be. He started for the truck. “Rodney, did this guy give you a name? Or what he wants to talk to me about?” John figured it was just a salesman that wouldn’t leave without speaking with the homeowner. It happened.

There was a pause, in which John assumed Rodney was talking to the visitor. “He says his name is Cowan and that you’d know what this is about.”

John stopped in his tracks halfway to the truck, a lead weight sinking in his gut. He slowly turned around to look at Evan. Evan’s expression had gone flat, so John knew he’d heard the name through the radios.

Evan stepped over to John and said firmly, in a tone that brooked no argument, “I’m coming.”

John didn’t argue. He’d be happy to have his friend there to cover his six. He lifted the radio back to his mouth and said curtly, “I’m on my way. And, Rodney?”

“Yes?”

John strode through the snow to his truck, Evan on his heels. “Do _not_ let him in the house. Understood?” Last thing John needed was Cowan poking around his home, giving him any sort of leverage. And he didn’t give a damn if Cowan heard him.

There was a long pause as John reached his truck and yanked open the door. He was buckling the seatbelt when Rodney finally responded, “ . . . Understood.”

John tossed the radio on the dash and turned the engine over, Evan slamming his door shut as John backed up out of the pasture. He did a quick turn and gunned it, tires bouncing on the snowy ground as he took the quickest route to the ranch house.

What the _hell_ did Cowan think he was doing here? If he tried anything . . . John’s knuckles were white where they gripped the wheel, the truck moving at a fast clip towards the ranch house. It came into view and he aimed for the back gate, slamming on the brakes to send the pickup skidding to a stop a few yards from the back gate. John hopped out, shoved open the gate and stormed through the yard to the back door.

“Sheppard, wait!”

John kept going, ignoring Evan’s call, anger spiking at the thought of that man on his property.

Fingers closed around his biceps, yanking him around to face Lorne. “John, stop and think a minute!”

John ripped his arm free. “He’s got no reason to be here and yet he _is_. What the hell does he think is going to happen?”

“This is what he wants to happen!” Evan said forcefully. “He came here, unannounced, pulled you out of what you were doing. He did it on purpose, so you would walk in there, angry, and he would have the upper hand. You can’t let that happen.”

“I’m not going to be nice to him. I’ve got nothing nice to say to him.”

Evan nodded. “I get that. Believe me, I do. But you cannot let Cowan get to you.”

John glared at his friend. “You do realize why he’s here, right? How can I not let that get to me?”

Evan blew out his breath, fogging the air between them. “Dammit, John, I _know_ how much you hate the guy and what he’s trying to do! Alright? I get that! But I swear to God, if he sees he’s getting under your skin, he wins. Do you get that?”

John turned away, ran his hands over his face, and turned back. “So what? You want me to go in there and make nice? Not happening.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Evan replied. “I’m saying, Cowan wants you angry and off balance. So take a breath and shove the anger aside for the next five minutes.”

John felt a muscle tick in his jaw but he dutifully closed his eyes and forced himself to take a long, slow breath. He held it for a long moment as he took his anger and shoved it into those little boxes he’d been using forever. Then he let his breath out just as slowly as he breathed it in and felt his shoulder muscles loosen just the tiniest bit. When he opened his eyes again, he felt more in control. Still, “I can’t promise not to hit him.”

“And that’s why I’m here.” Evan studied him. “Whatever he says, keep your cool. Don’t let him get to you, or if he does, for the love of God, don’t _show_ it. Okay?”

John took another breath, flexed his fingers—when had he clenched them into fists?—and nodded. “Okay.”

John pulled the back door open and strode inside, through the kitchen, through the dining room and into the first floor. He could feel the cool breeze coming from the open front door. He saw Cowan standing on the porch, the screen door and Rodney between them.

Rodney saw him first and came over. “Hey, who is this guy?”

“Long story,” John replied, his eyes not leaving Cowan who had just noticed his arrival. Cowan lifted a hand and smirked at him. John felt his jaw tighten. “Rodney, go stand with Evan while Cowan and I handle a little business.”

Rodney didn’t move, staring at John. “Is there something going on? Do I need to call the police or anything? Because this guy . . . I mean, it seems like you two have some history and something just feels off.”

John looked at Rodney, then. “I appreciate you calling me, but I’ve got this. Go back with Evan.” When Rodney still hesitated, John reached out to pat him on the shoulder, squeezing once, then nodded to the side. “I’ll handle it.”

Rodney frowned but this time he stepped away. Knowing Evan would keep an eye on everyone, John approached the front door and Cowan warily, reminding himself firmly to not let the bastard get to him. He assessed the man as he walked, taking in Cowan’s stance. He stood a foot from the door, feet firmly planted apart in ready stance, arms crossed, a smug look on his face. John felt himself sliding into that persona that never failed to piss off every C.O. he’d ever had in response to the combative stance facing him through the door. Stopping a foot away, John slouched a bit, bent a knee, then hooked his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans and raised an eyebrow. _Don’t let him get to you_. He greeted Cowan in a lazy drawl that also never failed to irritate people, “Cowan. I’m a bit surprised to see you here. Was Kolya not available for harassment duty?”

Cowan’s smirk didn’t shift as he shook his head in mock sadness. “Sheppard. I see you’ve gotten yourself a gatekeeper. Afraid to answer your own door? Tsk tsk.”

“Why don’t you come in and we’ll find out?” John grinned widely, showing teeth, even as his eyes glinted dangerously. Afraid? Royally pissed off, more like.

“Now now, there’s no need for violence, Sheppard. I’m just here to—”

“I know why you’re here,” John interrupted. “And my answer hasn’t changed from the last four times. And it’s not going to change, no matter how many times you and your bully boys ask.”

“You’re making a bad decision,” Cowan warned him. “This is happening whether you sell or not but if you take my offer, you’d be set for whatever you want to do in the future. Wait much longer, and my offer will be significantly lower.”

“I’m not selling,” John said flatly, his tone gaining the hard, dangerous tone that he hadn’t used in about four years but apparently it was just as effective as he remembered. Cowan’s eyes narrowed in response. “I don’t care what your price was or will be. My land is not for sale. Ever. Now, you need to get the hell off my property, before I call the sheriff to deal with a trespasser. Or I get my own gun out and you deal with me instead. Your choice.”

Cowan’s gaze flicked to something over John’s left shoulder and John knew Evan had moved into view in the background. Evan was the steady to John’s rashness, but he could radiate threatening just as well as John could with a narrowing of his eyes. The set of his shoulders. Silence could be more intimidating than any amount of threatening words.

“Five seconds,” John said, the hardness in his words at odds with the studied casualness of his posture.

Cowan’s gaze returned to John and he sneered, something dark slithering behind his eyes. “You’ll sell to me. I can guarantee it,” he vowed. Then, with one last glare encompassing them all, Cowan turned and stormed off the porch.

John remained where he was, watching as Cowan got in his car and drove off. He waited until Cowan was no longer in sight then slammed the door shut with more force than was strictly necessary. He slammed the lock home for emphasis then turned and braced himself on the back of the couch. “I’m going to kill him one of these days,” he muttered under his breath.

Evan laid a hand on his shoulder. “Not today, though.” He didn’t say it, but John knew he was proud of John for not raising his voice or striking Cowan.

“What the hell was that?”

John straightened with a start, having momentarily forgotten that Rodney was there and had witnessed the whole thing. He stood by the archway into the dining room, arms crossed and a pissed expression on his face. “Rodney,” John started.

Rodney shook his head. “No. No, I don’t want whatever fake story you’re about to tell me. You just threatened to kill that man and I want to know why or I’m leaving.”

“Where are you gonna go?” Evan asked, skeptical.

Rodney ignored him, his gaze steady on John’s face.

John studied him, trying to decide if he deserved the truth. He went with part of it. “That was Cowan—”

“Yeah,” Rodney interrupted, irritated, “I got that when I asked his name. What does he want and why did you threaten him?”

John leaned against the couch, slid his hands into his jeans pockets. “He wants my land to develop it for some project and I won’t sell which royally pisses him off. Apparently, he hasn’t run into that before. I threatened him because this is the fifth time someone from the company has showed up on my doorstep uninvited—and they got nasty first.”

Rodney’s brow furrowed. “So . . . this is, what, a you strike first situation? Get him before he gets you? Or was it an empty threat?”

“It was not an empty threat and he knows it,” John replied firmly. It was best they got this out of the way right now. “I own a pistol and a shotgun, I have used them before, and I will use them again if I need to. I do not intend to kill anyone but I will protect me and mine. Is that a problem for you?”

Rodney studied him for a long tense moment. “Where do you keep your guns?” he asked eventually.

John couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “The pistol is in a lockbox in my room,” John answered. “Shotgun’s in the closet, along with the shells.”

Rodney nodded slowly.

John asked again, “Is this going to be a problem?”

Another long moment followed by a slow shake of his head. “I guess, as long as they’re locked up, that’s okay.”

John nodded. “Alright. So we’re good then?”

“We’re good. For now.” Rodney glanced at Evan then back at John. “What now?”

“Now, we all go back to whatever we were doing before Cowan showed up to ruin our day,” John replied with a glance at Evan. Evan had a thoughtful look on his face as he studied Rodney.

Rodney stared at him a second longer then shrugged and walked away. John watched him disappear into the office then turned to Evan and said, “Well that was interesting.”

“Very much so,” Evan said thoughtfully.

John waited but that was all he said so John headed back outside. They still had a lot of fencing to tear down and replace.

* * *

The nightmares returned that night, full of memories that John still had trouble keeping in their little boxes. There were times when they were all he thought about, where they permeated his every waking and sleeping moment. Times like today, apparently. Memories of death. Fire. Terror. Pain.

Grief.

Deep, heart-wrenching sorrow.

John stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, an arm draped across his sweaty forehead, and felt the weight of those memories like an actual physical weight on his chest. Pushing him into the mattress. His heart pounding beneath the blankets, remembering what had happened. He hadn’t had a nightmare in a while. He’d never been able to figure out what triggered them. Why those stuck with him when others that were certainly more traumatic didn’t. With a frustrated sound, John got out of bed. What he did know was what experience had taught him. And that was that it would not be easy to just roll over and go back to sleep. _If_ he got back to sleep at all. And sometimes he didn’t.

But there was one thing that helped to calm his mind down most of the time and he hoped that would work tonight.

Tugging on a pair of thick socks, John grabbed a hoodie from the pile of laundry in the corner and stepped out into the hall. Moving silently so he didn’t wake Rodney, John ghosted downstairs, avoiding all the squeaky spots, pulling the hoodie on over his pajamas as he did so. He knew the ranch’s central heat was working but the nights could get down into single digits out here during the wintertime, and that was without the wind chill factor. He shivered despite his added layers. It felt like the temp was down in the negatives tonight.

John moved by memory through the pitch black first floor into the dining room, then on into the kitchen where the lights were on. He frowned. Those hadn’t been on when he’d gone upstairs. John stopped in the doorway, let his eyes adjust to the light, then found himself staring in surprise at the back of a figure sitting at the island, the glow of the laptop peeking over his shoulder.

“McKay?” John asked, confused as to why anyone else would be up this late.

Rodney jerked, nearly fell off his seat, caught himself and turned around. When he saw John, he put a hand to his chest and glared. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! What the hell are you doing up? How long have you been there?”

John shrugged, noting that Rodney was still fully dressed, though he was wearing an extra layer as well. “Couldn’t sleep. So I came down. What are you doing still up?”

“I’m working.”

“Working? On what? You do know it’s after midnight, right?” John glanced at the computer screen as he headed for the cupboards. Rodney had two programs open: one showed a 3D model of something and the other was a document full of equations.

“I have several projects in the works and I work on them as inspiration hits. And it’s not that late,” Rodney replied. “Midnight’s not even the latest I’ve stayed up.”

John pointedly glanced at the clock as he pulled out a griddle then back at him with a raised eyebrow.

Rodney lifted one shoulder. “So it’s nearly three in the morning. Once I get into the groove—and have a steady supply of coffee—I can stay up indefinitely. I once stayed up for three nights straight because I was on the verge of a breakthrough. What are you doing?”

He asked that with no small amount of confusion as John had set the griddle on the stove, turned the burner on, then headed for the fridge. “Late night snack. Helps calm the mind.” Turning slightly, John asked over his shoulder, “Want one?”

He could hear the curiosity in his voice as Rodney replied, “I was under the impression that none of you could cook.”

John took the cheese and butter to the island then grabbed a loaf of bread and a knife. “Normally, I would agree with you. I can’t cook much. Ronon prefers to make meals for himself but will eat when it’s put in front of him. Of all of us, Evan’s probably the only decent cook but nothing beats Laura’s cooking. But when I was in college,” John set four slices of bread on the counter, “there was one thing that I could make perfectly every time.”

“And that is . . .?”

John grinned at him as he started buttering slices of bread. “I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich. So: you want one?”

Rodney smiled after a moment and closed his laptop. “Sure. Since you’re cooking.”

“Cool.” John turned on the faucet, flicked some water at the griddle. It barely fizzled. Not hot enough yet. He opened the cheese packages and added a slice each of American and Swiss to one of the pieces of bread then put the other on top and buttered the top of the sandwich. He licked some butter off a finger then asked Rodney, “You allergic to any kinds of cheese?”

“What, is that supposed to be a joke?” Rodney asked, bristling.

John paused, knife in the butter tub, and looked up. “No,” he said, taken aback by the reaction. “You said you had a pretty bad allergy to citrus so I just wanted to double check that that was your only allergy. I wasn’t—I wouldn’t joke about that.”

Rodney turned pink. “Oh,” he said. Then again, softer, “Oh. Most people think I’m overreacting about it.”

John went back to buttering bread for a second sandwich. “It’s your body. You know better than anyone what you can and can’t have. It’s not for me to judge; just to know. And besides, I do try not to kill my friends.”

“We’re friends?” Rodney asked, sounding surprised.

John looked up again then back down. There was that hint of vulnerability in Rodney’s eyes and John shrugged, trying to ignore the sudden swell of emotion. “Sure. Why not?”

Rodney fell silent until John set the knife down and reached for the cheese. Then he said, “I’m not, by the way. Allergic to cheese. Although, to be fair, I haven’t tried all the cheeses out there so it is conceivable that I _could_ be allergic to one of them but—”

John interrupted, “Rodney. American and Swiss okay?”

“Ah, yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.”

John put together the second sandwich then flicked more water on the griddle. This time it sizzled, nice and hot. John set the sandwiches on the griddle butter side down, buttered the last side, then grabbed a spatula and leaned against the counter to watch and wait. “So,” John said, to keep the silence at bay, both in the kitchen and in his head, “what’re you working on? I thought you had everything all set for your presentation?”

“I do. But, like I said, I have multiple projects going. This one just got completed and published first. I like to work on more than one thing at a time; I feel it keeps my mind sharp.”

John tipped his head towards the laptop. “So those are distance equations, right? What are you measuring the distance of?” John lifted the corner of a sandwich, peeking underneath to see if they were ready to flip.

“You recog—I mean, yeah, it’s just something I work on in my free time. A star map of sorts. Trying to mark the places of all the known planetary objects in a 3D model for easy reference.”

“Neat.” He flipped the sandwiches, hearing the sizzle as the bread cooked. Melted cheese started to ooze out the sides and he felt his stomach growl faintly. “So you’re an astronomer, then, huh?”

“Astrophysicist,” Rodney corrected.

“Can you grab a couple plates?” John asked. “These are nearly done.”

The chair scraped against the floor as Rodney got up, pulled two plates from a cupboard then joined John by the stove. John was abruptly very aware of how little he was actually wearing and how close Rodney was. How intimate this setting seemed. He cleared his throat and kept his gaze on the griddle. A few seconds later, John deemed them finished and scooped them off the griddle, setting them on the plates Rodney held out. He shut off the burner then took his plate and settled in across from Rodney at the island.

Rodney inspected his. “So, you perfected the art of the grilled cheese sandwich while in college?” he asked.

“Yup. Quick and easy comfort food.”

“Where’d you attend?”

John picked up his sandwich, blew on the melted cheese that was escaping the confines of the bread, and said, “Stanford.” Then he took a bite.

Rodney stared at him. 

“Hot,” he mumbled, as the cheese burned his tongue a little so he got up to grab a glass of water, taking a drink as he sat back down to cool his mouth. Rodney was still staring at him. John raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Rodney said faintly, “You went to Stanford?”

John glanced down at his hoodie, the white _STANFORD_ emblazoned across the chest faded and cracked after all these years but still readable. “Yep.” He grinned and took another bite. “Got the hoodie and everything.”

“But—but you’re . . . and you." Rodney looked very confused. “What did you major in?”

John swallowed and pointed at Rodney’s untouched grilled cheese sandwich. “You might wanna eat that before it gets cold.”

“What did you major in?” Rodney insisted, still ignoring the sandwich.

John frowned at him. What did it matter what his degrees were in? “Double majored in advanced mathematics and mechanical engineering. Why?”

“Oh my god, you’re _smart_?” he said faintly, sagging in his chair.

John felt offended. “Hey, I’m not stupid.”

“Oh this is so unfair.” Rodney dragged his hands over his face and mumbled, not quite to himself, “How can you be so hot _and_ smart? That’s just—statistically impossible.”

John felt his ears heat and he took a drink, feeling warm. “I mean, it’s not, really, statistically impossible. _Improbable_ , sure, but not impossible.”

Rodney stared at him. “What are you doing here? Why are you not . . . I don’t know, working in a lab somewhere or—or teaching? What could you possibly do with those degrees out here? Why not major in—in animal husbandry or something more fitting?” Having seemingly run out of questions for the moment, Rodney finally took a bite. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

“Thanks.” John shrugged. “I chose the subjects that would guarantee I got to do what I wanted to do.”

“Raise cows?” Rodney asked sarcastically, taking another bite.

“Fly,” John answered baldly, honestly. Maybe even a little wistfully, now that his wings had been clipped, metaphorically speaking.

“Fly.” Rodney frowned. “I’m going to assume, based on the way you drive and the admittedly very little I know about you, that it wasn’t commercial planes you flew?”

“No.” John smiled a little, felt the heartache a little deeper than before. “I was a fighter pilot.” And he’d been a damn good one, too. There was nothing out there that John couldn’t figure out how to fly and he was an exceptional pilot every time. Nothing could touch him, not when he was in the cockpit.

Until it did.

And his world ended with fire and a ringing in his ears and pain like he’d never felt before. Pain that would have crushed him totally if he hadn’t had Evan around.

John’s smile faded as he remembered that last flight, the events that never let him go, the nightmare he’d just awoken from. His stomach churned, the grilled cheese turning to ash in his mouth. He reached for his water, to try to rinse the taste of smoke from his mouth. The damn military shrink he’d been forced to see after he’d gotten out of the infirmary had been kind, had acted like she cared about him and what he’d been through, but then she’d turned right around and recommended he be honorably discharged from the only life he’d ever known or wanted.

From the closest thing to a family he’d ever found.

Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Evan arriving when he did . . .

“You—you,” Rodney spluttered, his mouth opening and closing several times, as if he were unable to find the words to accurately express his disbelief. He kind of looked like a fish and it was enough to jar John back to the present.

John cleared his throat and said, “So that’s enough about me for tonight. What about you, McKay? Where’s home for you?”

Rodney blinked and looked down, noticed he still had his food in his hands and took a bite absently. “Toronto,” he answered after a moment. “For the past eight months, anyway. Though that’s subject to change based on what grants I get and from where. The life of a scientist,” he said with an ironic twist to his mouth and took another bite, this time letting out a moan of delight that had John shifting in his seat.

“Canada? Why didn’t you just fly in to Denver instead of driving all the way there from—where does your sister live?”

“Vancouver. And it was also, sort of, my niece’s birthday so I kind of had to be there.” Rodney sounded resigned. “I’m not really fond of commercial flight, either. No telling who I’d be stuck next to for the hours-long flight and I don’t trust the food on planes. One anaphylactic scare was enough, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of commercial flying, either, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I totally get that,” Rodney agreed with a nod. “For you to let someone else fly while you’re just a passenger . . . it’s like—like me having to let Radek present my findings and my research if I can’t get to the conference in time.”

“Hey,” John said, reaching out to grip Rodney’s wrist. Rodney’s skin was warm. “We’ll get you there. Todd’s ordered the parts; just waiting on them to get here. Just hang in there a couple days.”

Rodney’s gaze was riveted on the spot where they were in contact and John felt his face heat again. He yanked his hand back. Rodney cleared his throat, looking a little pink himself, and said, “I hope so. Although, I mean, it’s not _that_ bad here.” He offered John a slightly sheepish smile. “The quiet’s been good for my work.”

John managed a return smile, trying and failing to ignore the flip in his stomach. What the hell was happening here? “Well, I’m happy to hear that you don’t totally hate it out here in the middle of nowhere,” he teased.

Rodney groaned and put his face in his hands. “Oh god, I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Multiple times,” John replied with a laugh, glad that the weird tension had dissipated. “Don’t worry about it. I said it plenty of times myself when I first came out here. But it’s grown on me. And Aurora Falls may be smaller than you’re used to but it’s got its own charms.”

Surprisingly, Rodney didn’t leap at the chance to ask John more about how he’d ended up here. John honestly expected him to and was pleasantly surprised when Rodney’s next comment was, “So I have to ask: why would you have a poster for _Return of the Jedi_ next to _Back to the Future_? They’re not even in the same realm.”

John had to take a second to switch over to the new topic but he replied, “I love _Back to the Future_! And just because it’s not on the same level as _Star Wars_ doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

Rodney went off on all the ways _BTTF_ was an absolutely horrid depiction of science and John found himself defending points that he would normally agree with, just to set him off again. That then rolled into a discussion about the best sci-fi movies out there. John was pleased to find that Rodney was also a nerd and happily debated with him until the snacks were gone, Rodney was out of coffee and time passed. When John finally felt sleep beckoning him, it was with a feeling of surprise that he felt tired and, with a yawn that split his jaw, John glanced at the clock. It was after four-thirty. He couldn’t believe how long they’d sat here talking.

John hadn’t had so much time pass unnoticed in a long time.

Rodney helped him clean up and shut off the lights, making their way to the staircase by the glow of Rodney’s cell phone flashlight. There was a brief awkward moment in the upstairs hall when they paused in front of Rodney’s door. That tension was back and John had to force himself to say goodnight and turn to his room. 

It was nothing. Just—getting to know each other. John yanked his hoodie over his head, tossed it aside, and climbed into bed. Aftereffects of the emotional high he was riding from the nightmares and Cowan’s visit, that was all it was. Tugging the blankets up, John rolled over and shut his eyes. Sleep claimed him not long after and there were no more nightmares that night.


	5. Chapter Five

Rodney input the last few numbers into the equation then started the program that would collate all the data into a statistical model he could use. Now all he had to do was wait. He rolled his head around, cracked his fingers, and his gaze alighted on the framed photo on the desk of the four men in matching shirts. A thought occurred to him and he reached over to pick it up and study it again. He had new information now.

Sheppard said he’d been a fighter pilot. That meant he was in the military, probably Air Force judging by his hair. Rodney had worked with enough military benefactors and contractors to know that if Sheppard had served in any other branch of the military, he’d probably still have that ridiculous buzz cut that didn’t look good on anyone. And if this photo showed John in his service days . . . well, the tan t-shirts had to be desert camo, then. Right? Which meant the Middle East and that wasn’t really the Navy’s preferred field of battle. So John, and Lorne since he was also in the photo, had been USAF, spent some time in the Middle East, and now they were out here. Together.

Interesting.

Rodney set the photo back down, still mulling that over as he glanced at the status bar on the program. Barely at 5%. Okay. He shoved the chair back and stood, his back cracking. Time for a break. He’d been staring at the computer screen all morning, with only a quick stop to eat lunch, but now he needed to move. And kill time while his model constructed itself. He wandered out into the living room, glanced out the back window and had to stop and admire the view. 

This definitely wasn’t the kind of place he’d normally consider going, but it was quite beautiful. The deep blue sky overlooking the snow-covered mountains and trees, the snow landscape. _Maddie would love it here_ , came the sudden thought. _Jeannie, too_. Rodney blinked. Where had _that_ thought come from? It made no sense for him to be thinking of his sister and niece and yet he could totally see them here. Madison would be running through the snow, making snowmen and snow angels, while Jeannie sat out back on the patio, watching her. 

It was so vivid, Rodney froze. There was no reason to be thinking about his family coming here because he wouldn’t be staying here much longer. And if he wasn’t here, then there was no reason for them to come here.

Shaking the image from his head, Rodney decided the best thing to do was get some fresh air himself. Clearly he was going stir crazy from being inside. Even back home, he’d take a break from the lab. He’d go outside, walk the block and a half to his favorite café for a cappuccino and pastry. Here, well, he could walk around the field a bit, right? He headed for the hall closet where the coats were kept and pulled his out. Checking that his hat and gloves were in the pockets, Rodney pulled it on then reached for the pair of sneakers sitting by the door.

Then he paused. Sneakers weren’t really all that great for hiking through snow, were they? Hmm. Rodney looked around and found a pair of boots in the back of the closet. Well, if they were here, then it was perfectly okay for him to borrow them, right? He pulled them on, happy to find that they fit, then he headed for the kitchen door.

Rodney closed the door firmly behind him then walked across the short distance to the gate and out onto the open area that also seemed to double as the rest of the driveway, if the tire tracks were any indication. Rodney looked around as he pulled his hat and gloves on, trying to decide where to go. There was a smaller house nearby—that must be Lorne’s place. He kept looking. There was a large brown building not too far away. That would do as a destination.

Rodney set off in that direction, walking slowly and just trying to relax his muscles from their tense, hunched over position. It was quite beautiful out and he didn’t really mind the cold all that much. He was Canadian, after all, and the sun was still out. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, looking around at . . . nothing. It was nature. A lot of nature, with a couple of buildings, and a lot of fencing. Rodney squinted against the sunlight—why hadn’t it occurred to him to bring sunglasses out with him?—and tried to figure out just how far the mountains were from the Sheppard ranch. 

It wasn’t long before he reached the building he’d marked as his destination and stepped inside. His nostrils flared as the smells filled his nose. Smells of hay, and animal, and . . . Rodney screwed up his face in disgust. That was manure. Ugh. Squeezing his nose shut, Rodney walked further in, curious as to what kind of animal resided in the barn. Because it was most definitely a barn, with that smell.

There were horses housed in here, Rodney found. Several of them moved around in various stalls along both sides of the barn’s aisle, making those huffing sort of neighing sounds. Rodney tugged his gloves off, shoving them in his pockets as he walked slowly down the aisle. Low conversation caught his attention and Rodney went to investigate.

There was a door about halfway down the aisle and inside, in what looked like a storage/tack room/office were John and . . . the mechanic. John’s boyfriend. Rodney quickly ducked out of sight, leaning forward until he could just barely see. John stood facing the doorway, Beacon opposite and slightly to the side so Rodney could see John clearly. They were talking in low tones, but he could tell that it wasn’t a happy conversation. Beacon jabbed a finger at John. John said something then Beacon shook his head and left.

Beacon snapped over his shoulder, “Fine, screw up your life! See if I care!” and stormed right past Rodney without seeing him.

Rodney had to take a couple steps back, pressing against the wall, as he watched the mechanic stride out of the barn. He bit his lip, looked back at the office opening, then at the barn entrance where Beacon had disappeared out. There was a soft sound in the office . . . John muttering under his breath? Did he make his presence known or not? Rodney scooted back up to the opening and peeked around the corner again.

John was sitting on a stool, shoulders slumped. As Rodney watched, he ran his hands over his face then lowered them, looked down at them. The expression on his face . . . . it stabbed at Rodney’s chest and he fought the urge to step in and say something to make John feel better. The only reason he didn’t is that he didn’t really know what John and his boyfriend had been fighting about. He had a feeling that their fight somehow had something to do with him. After all, they really hadn’t started off on good terms from their one meeting. But what that could be now, Rodney had no clue. 

What should he do? God, he was horrible with this stuff. He usually relied on Radek or Jeannie for help with this kind of thing. Sure, he’d fixed it before, but that was nothing more than a simple compliment. This felt . . . heavier. And he didn’t know what to do about that. Rodney pulled back, leaning his head back against the wall as he thought.

He heard boots scuff on the floor and realized John was getting up. Rodney had a split second to make a decision and had just decided it was best to run and pretend he hadn’t heard or seen what he had. He had just turned to do so when—

“Rodney?”

Rodney winced— _fuck_ —then slowly turned back around. John stood half in the aisle, half in the doorway, one hand wrapped around the door. He didn’t look as upset, anymore. “Um, hi.”

John studied him, his expression neutral. “You need something?”

Rodney swallowed. “Um, no. I was—I was just going for a walk?”

The corner of John’s mouth ticked up briefly. “You sure about that?”

Rodney nodded emphatically. “Yes. Yes, I—I needed a break while my program runs. Is it okay for me to be out here?”

“Yeah, sure,” John answered easily, no trace at all of what had just transpired. “Though, I would caution you to stay within sight of the ranch house if you’re out on your own. It’s too easy to get lost out here if you don’t know the terrain.”

Rodney frowned. “That sounds . . . ominous.”

That got a little laugh out of John and his face settled into a bit more of a natural expression, though the tension lines were still present around his mouth and a shadow lingered in his eyes. “Just a friendly warning.” 

A horse whinnied and John left Rodney to go over to check on it. He patted it on the nose, leaned in to murmur something. But there was still a harsh set to his shoulders and Rodney found himself asking, “Are you okay?” before he thought better of it.

John’s hand froze for a second before resuming its movement. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“Um,” Rodney started, taking a couple steps forward, “it’s just that—well, I mean, I kind of—but I didn’t mean to—and well—”

“Spit it out, McKay,” John said, voice tense.

“I saw you fighting with your boyfriend,” Rodney blurted out. Then immediately wished he could take back.

John stared at him over the horse’s head, like he was astounded that Rodney even mentioned it. “Oh,” he said after a long moment.

“Um . . . yeah.” Rodney shifted his feet, uncomfortable with the scrutiny when all he’d wanted was to see if John was okay. “Um, so—so, are you? Okay? I mean, he didn’t look too happy when he left and I just thought—”

John interjected, quietly but with a hardness to his voice, “That’s none of your business, McKay.”

Holding his hands up, palms outward, Rodney quickly backtracked, “Of course. Of course. I didn’t mean to pry, it’s just . . . well, I, um, kind of overheard him say, um, some things as he was leaving and—”

“It’s nothing. Just . . . an ongoing disagreement.” John sighed, turned back to the horse. “He’s still waiting on parts for your car, by the way. I guess the south got hit with a blizzard and several of the main roads are closed.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s—hmm, well, that’s not ideal but I appreciate the update.” Rodney frowned. Then frowned harder because shouldn’t he have been more disappointed about that? But he wasn’t.

John nodded, still petting the horse.

Rodney shuffled his feet, unsure what to say now. After a full minute of silence, he finally said, “I should, uh, I should go. Finish my walk and, uh, get back to work. Sooo yeah . . .” Apparently, whatever had been brewing between them the last couple days, that was clearly over. Rodney headed for the exit, surprised by the new ache in his chest at the realization.

“This is Atlantis,” John said quietly from behind him.

Rodney whirled around, nearly slipping on the floor. “What?”

John was focused on the horse, running a hand slowly up and down her face. “She’s my favorite. I come out here and talk to her when things get to be too much. I tell her what’s going on, what I’m thinking, what I’m trying to work out and Atlantis . . . listens.” He looked up now, fixing his dark hazel eyes on Rodney’s. “I don’t like to talk about my personal life, with anyone, really.”

Rodney took that as the apology he assumed it was and drifted back over. “So,” he said, reaching out a hand to cautiously pat the horse, “you named your horse Atlantis? As in the Lost City of?”

John shrugged. “I think I was the lost one, but yeah. Atlantis is my girl, ain’t you, sweetie?” he crooned, leaning in to press a kiss to Atlantis’ nose. 

Oh my god that was fucking adorable.

John cleared his throat. “So, um. About Todd. . .”

“Hey,” Rodney replied, “if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in your business, anyway.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Not everyone has the perfect relationship, least of all me,” John responded, and there was something in his voice . . .

“I’m perpetually single,” Rodney offered. “I don’t date anyone without a significantly high IQ otherwise they bore me. And my tendency to be blunt and unable to stomach fools or idiots has led to a lot of failed relationships, with both men and women.”

This time the smile reached John’s eyes and Rodney’s heart thumped. “You like it here, Rodney?” John asked abruptly, totally out of the blue.

Rodney blinked a couple times. “Here, as in, in this barn or—”

“Here, as in at my ranch,” John corrected, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Rodney narrowed his eyes, pulling his hand away to properly study him. “Are you kicking me out?”

“What?” John looked startled. “No! Why would you think that?”

“Um, the whole preceding conversation?”

John blew out a quick breath and shook his head. “Rodney, I’m not gonna kick you out for overhearing a conversation held in a public place. Seriously, do you think I’m that kind of person?”

Rodney felt himself flush a little. “Well, n—no.”

“Alright, then. So, do you?”

“Do I . . .?”

John laughed. “Like it here, McKay.”

“Oh!” His flush deepened. “Well, it’s not what I would have picked if I’d had a choice but you know, yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s nice. Quiet. You could use a better internet connection and cell service, but other than that, yeah. I like it here.” He surprised himself with that admission, because he did. Rodney liked it here, he found. And then he remembered that flash of image he’d had—of being able to see Maddie running around and hearing her laugh. Maybe he liked it here more than he thought he did.

John ducked his head and Rodney saw his ears turn pink. “Even though it’s out in the middle of nowhere?” he lightly teased.

Rodney rolled his eyes. “You _are_ in the middle of nowhere, Sheppard. But the quiet is good for working, since I don’t have to deal with the idiots I’m normally forced to work with, most of which I’m fairly certain never passed high school physics.” He paused then added, in a quieter voice, “And the company is infinitely better than I see daily in my lab.” And felt the flush cover his entire face.

John didn’t speak for several minutes after that, and Rodney thought he’d overplayed his hand. He was starting to really like John, and, even though John technically had a boyfriend, Rodney thought that John kind of felt the same way. Normally, in this kind of lengthening, slightly awkward silence, Rodney would find it necessary to fill the silence with some sort of nervous babbling because he just hated silences in conversations. But not this one. This one felt different. Things with John felt different. Like . . . like things had been shifting between them and they were no longer just strangers or just roommates or whatever the hell they were. But they were more, now. And that led to a silence that Rodney didn’t feel the need to break.

John broke the silence. “Do you ride?”

“Hmm? Ride—ride what?”

“Horses, McKay,” John said with a smile. “Do you ride horses?”

“Uhh . . . no.” Rodney frowned. “Unless pony rides at the county fair as a kid count?”

John laughed, a bright, happy sound that wedged its way deep into Rodney’s chest and stayed there. “It’s the same basic principle, just on a bigger animal. So, about that break you were on . . .” Rodney turned to watch him walk down the aisle and step into another stall. “Hey, Peej, how’re you doing? You need some air?”

Oh, oh no. That was—oh no. “Um, what’s a Peej?” Rodney called, a hint of panic rising.

The stall door opened and John led another horse out into the aisle with a rope halter. “This is Peej,” John said cheerily. “I thought we could go for a little ride. Nothing like a ride to clear your head.”

Rodney swallowed hard. Oh boy. He wet his lips. “See—see the thing is, um, I don’t—I don’t actually, you know, _know_ how to ride, right? Pony rides are—are you sit and they move on their own, nothing needed from the rider. Horses are different. They’re—they’re bigger and need more direction and I—I can’t—” He shook his head repeatedly, then jumped to the side as Atlantis nudged him.

John brought the horse over, tied it up, and patted it on the side. “Like I said, same basic principle. These guys are trained well enough that you just need to keep your balance and know some basic commands, which I’ll teach you. And Peej is one of the most even-tempered horses I have. He’ll be fine for a beginning rider like you.”

Rodney cringed. “I—I—I don’t know . . .”

John clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be easy for a smart guy like you.” He stepped into the office, came back out a moment later with his hands full of horse gear and started putting them on Peej.

Rodney eyed the horse—it was taller than him—and wondered if there was a way out of this. Then he remembered the light in John’s eyes as he talked about Atlantis, saw the fondness with which he treated her, and sighed. He was going to get on this horse, wasn’t he?

He watched John toss the saddle over the horse’s back and duck under to buckle it. Almost immediately, John pulled back and said warningly to the horse, “PJ, don’t play games with me. I’m not Aiden.” The horse turned its head to eye John balefully then blew out his breath in a rush. “There we go,” John said and ducked back down to pull the buckle tight.

“What was that?” Rodney demanded. “I thought you said it was even-tempered!”

John straightened and patted Peej on the behind. “He is,” John agreed. “But some horses like to mess with their riders when they put the saddle on. He sucks in his breath, means I cinch it around his full stomach, and then he’ll let his breath out as I get on so that the saddle slides and I fall off. Thing is,” he patted Peej again, “I know his game.”

“Are you telling me that that horse would have made sure that I fell off the second I managed to get on?” Rodney practically shrieked, horrified.

“If you had saddled him, yes. But like I said, I know his game.” John came over and hooked a hand around Rodney’s elbow and drew him forward. Rodney swore he could feel the warmth of it through his coat. “Now, Rodney, this is Puddlejumper. Also known as PJ or Peej. Say hi.”

Rodney scowled at it. John nudged him and he reluctantly said, “Hi.” PJ’s head swiveled around to face him and he blew out his breath again. Rodney coughed and waved a hand in front of his face. “Ugh, god, that smells!”

John laughed. “Alright, you two get to know each other while I get Atlantis all set.” He clapped Rodney on the shoulder and headed back to the other horse. 

Rodney continued to scowl at the horse in front of him. “Don’t do that again,” he ordered. It did another whuffing sort of sound that sounded a lot like it was laughing. “Oh great,” Rodney muttered, “now the horse is laughing at me. What even is my life right now?”

He glanced back at John, who was busy with Atlantis, then back at Puddlejumper. He took a breath, widened his stance, and stared the horse down. “Alright, horse,” Rodney said firmly, “listen up: this is how it’s going to go. You and me? We’re going for a nice little ride with John, which means that you—you will behave, alright?” He pointed at finger at the horse in emphasis. “None of these games, okay? No throwing me, no biting, none of that. Because I will not be made a fool of in front of him. You got all that?”

Puddlejumper stared at him then bobbed his head a couple times.

Clip-clopping sounds signaled John approaching with Atlantis on a lead. John looked between them and asked, “You two good?”

Rodney shot the horse a stern look. “Yeah, we’re good. So about those commands?”

“Right. Let’s get you on first. You ready?”

“I guess.” Rodney glanced at the horse then back to John and asked warily, “Where are you planning on taking me?”

John shrugged. “Just a little walking tour. Nothing too adventurous.”

He debated then shook his head. “I’ll trust your judgment.”

“Great.” John hooked Atlantis’ rope to a hook on the wall then instructed Rodney on how to mount the horse and gave him a crash course—pun hopefully _not_ intended—on how to get the horse to move, stop, and turn. Then John got up on his own horse and led the way out of the barn and into the open fields.

* * *

This was exactly what he’d needed.

It was bracing, being able to feel the wind on his face, the cold sting his cheeks. John closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, felt that winter air go in deep and loosen the knot that had had his chest in a chokehold since Todd’s arrival. Hearing Rodney mutter something, he opened his eyes and looked over. PJ had stopped to snag a bite of grass peeking out through the snow and Rodney was trying, without much luck, to get him to keep moving. John tugged lightly on Atlantis’ reins, drawing her to a stop.

“You stupid animal, why do you want to eat that?” Rodney was saying. “Don’t you have better food back in the barn? Without the added dirt and who knows what else? Now get moving!” He flapped the reins but Peej wasn’t paying attention.

That knot loosened the rest of the way and he rolled his shoulders as the last of the tension bled out of his muscles. Twisting in the saddle, John called back, “Give him a kick, Rodney!”

“What?” Rodney looked up to where John had pulled Atlantis to a stop a few feet ahead.

“Give him a kick! He’ll get the message!”

Rodney frowned, looking uncertain, then John saw his foot move. PJ’s head came up with a start. Rodney kicked him again and he started forward. Rodney huffed, “ _Finally_. God, why do people ever use animals for transportation? Highly unreliable.”

When Rodney drew even with him, he nudged Atlantis back into motion and said blandly, knowing it would rile Rodney up, “Some people would say that it’s the cars that are the unreliable mode of transportation. An animal, you can at least figure out what it wants.”

Rodney glowered at him. “I’m a scientist. I can figure out a car. What I can’t figure out is why this—this horse wants to eat grass, for god’s sake!”

John laughed, entertained by Rodney’s ire. Yeah, taking a minute to go for a ride was exactly what he’d needed. “Take a look around, Rodney,” John said, letting the reins rest on the saddle and spreading his arms wide. He took in another deep breath. “Feel the sun on your face. Listen to the wind whistle past your ears, hear the trees rustle, the snow crunching underfoot. Doesn’t it just make you feel alive?”

When he looked back over, Rodney was staring at him. John’s mouth went dry as he registered that Rodney’s pupils had gone dark. Rodney wet his lips and John felt a bolt of lust roll through him all of a sudden, all the way down to his groin. He had to fight to keep from shifting awkwardly in the saddle. Crap. He shouldn’t be feeling that way about Rodney. He shouldn’t be feeling that way about anyone but Todd. He cleared his throat and looked away, picking up the reins again. “Anyway, I’m just saying: try to enjoy the ride instead of complaining about what Peej does.”

“Right,” Rodney replied, sounding faintly hoarse which did nothing for the tightness in John’s jeans. He liked the roughness in Rodney’s voice. He imagined the way it would feel against his mouth, wrapped around his cock. _Fuck fuck fuck._

He closed his eyes, willing his erection to go away. _I cannot be thinking about this. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. Why can’t I stop thinking about this? About him?_ He did his level best to ignore the potentially volatile situation—volatile because apparently John couldn’t keep his attention from wandering and letting anything happen would be a supremely bad idea.

Although he couldn’t quite convince himself of that fact. That wasn’t good, was it?

It also wasn’t good that he had to keep reminding himself that he had a boyfriend and shouldn’t be entertaining these sorts of thoughts about anyone else. And yet he couldn’t completely shut it down.

“So, where are we going?”” Rodney asked.

John just replied, “Follow me.”

What followed was an hour that John was certain would be one of the best times of his life. They kept to a walk, taking it slow since Rodney was new to the whole horse-riding thing, but after his initial complaints, he seemed to be enjoying it. John pointed out things of interest, like trailheads, where Ronon’s cabin was, where they stored the equipment, where they got together with some other guys in town to play football in the summer . . . But honestly, for the most part, they just meandered across the land. The day was clear, the sun bright overhead warming them a little despite the chilly wind that blew, ruffling the horse’s manes. Atlantis and Puddlejumper talked to each other as they meandered on. John turned them down a side trail, passing the pond that the guys fished in during the warmer months, and on to another part of the ranch. The mountains loomed ahead and John briefly considered bringing Rodney to his favorite spot but then decided against it. It was starting to get late and it was a bit more of an uphill trek than Rodney would be used to. Maybe another time.

Rodney sucked in a sharp breath, inadvertently tugging PJ to a stop. He stared, wide-eyed, at the herd of cows on the other side of the fence. They milled around, tails flicking. “That . . . is a lot of cows,” he said.

John drew up next to him, leaned his forearms on the saddle, and nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been lucky enough to have a good-sized herd this year. Ronon’s been starting to teach Aiden a thing or two about ‘em, though the kid prefers horses. Have to say, I do, too. Cows are more Ronon’s thing. He gets them.”

“Yeah, well, I suppose horses aren’t _too_ bad. For big, lumbering animals that randomly stop to eat grass,” Rodney grudgingly said.

John glanced over in time to see Rodney pat PJ’s neck and grinned. PJ tossed his head. “Yeah, I thought you two’d get along.”

Rodney shrugged. “Yeah, well . . . I guess I just need some time to get used to something.”

John’s throat went tight at the implied suggestion that Peej wasn’t the only thing—or person—that Rodney was getting used to. Because, as much as he wouldn’t want to admit it, John was getting pretty used to having Rodney around, himself. It was nice to have someone else in the house. It was a big place, and Evan deserved his own space, but after a few years, John was starting to feel like the quiet of the place was getting to him. 

And that was about the time that John realized he’d only had nightmares once since Rodney had started staying with him as opposed to having them more regularly. John blinked several times. Wow. Huh.

“Sheppard?” Rodney asked. 

John started, focusing on him. “Yeah?”

“Should we keep going?”

It took John longer than he’d care to admit to figure out that Rodney meant if they should keep riding along the trail. “Uh,” he said, looking up at the sky, then at his watch, “I think we’ll start back. Sunset falls early around here and I don’t want Atlantis or PJ to twist an ankle or something.”

“Okay. You’re the expert horseman.” Rodney frowned. “Is that the right word?”

John laughed. “Yeah, that works. Come on, McKay.” He nudged Atlantis, tugging the reins so she was headed back the way they’d come, Rodney and PJ on his heels.

As they walked, an idea tickled the back of John’s mind and he eyed Rodney sidelong, studying him. Rodney’s brow was slightly crinkled as he focused on what he was doing and his broad shoulders drew John’s gaze. Giving himself a mental yank, John forced himself to judge Rodney’s riding ability. Rodney had a pretty good seat for a beginner, wasn’t bouncing around, hadn’t been pulling on the reins or hurting Peej as far as John could tell. “So, Rodney, how confident are you about your newfound horse riding skills?”

“What? What does that mean?”

John shrugged. “I just meant, you seem to be getting a handle on things pretty quickly so I was just wondering how you felt about it.”

“Well, I am a genius,” Rodney said smugly, practically preening as he sat up straighter in the saddle. John rolled his eyes. He added, “It’s not rocket science and you were right. Once I stopped panicking and worrying about falling off, it’s kind of . . . fun. And he kind of just does his own thing, following where Atlantis goes.”

“Cool. So,” John continued in an attempted casual tone. “How would you feel about taking things a little faster?”

“F—faster?” And the way Rodney’s breath caught on that word . . .

It stole John’s breath, despite it not being what John had in mind. Or what he’d been thinking just minutes before. He shifted a little, wishing his jeans weren’t so damn tight. Atlantis turned down the trail back to the stables without any prompting from him, like she knew what he was thinking. John swallowed and forced his mind back to his original, non-innuendo, idea. “Yeah, faster. I was thinking we should see just how quick a learner you are, Rodney.” And fuck him if that didn’t come out practically dripping with innuendo, anyway.

“How—how so?”

John couldn’t look at him. He was afraid of what Rodney’s face would show. He was afraid of what _his_ face was showing. He dragged up one of those challenging, shit-eating grins he usually gave Ronon before they dared each other to do something dangerous or stupid or both, then tossed it in Rodney’s direction. Confident in Rodney’s abilities, John said quickly, “Race you back to the stables! Yah!” John snapped the reins in the air with a crack and Atlantis took off like a shot, John bent low over her back.

He heard Rodney’s shout of surprise and his grin fell into something a little more real, a little softer. He glanced back to see Rodney and PJ running after them. His suspicions had been correct: Rodney was, indeed, a quick learner.

John bent lower over Atlantis’ back, nearly flat to make them more aerodynamic, and murmured, “Come on, girl. You got this.” 

Atlantis let out a bright whinny and put on a burst of speed. Not far behind them, Peej answered her call with a whinny of his own. 

John laughed, truly enjoying himself for the first time in a long time, as the wind cut across his face and Atlantis’ hooves kicked up snow. Racing across the open land on the back of a galloping horse as he held onto the saddle, just hanging on and letting the adrenaline rip through him . . . it was the closest he’d found to flying since he’d been grounded. It in no way compared to the feeling of pulling 3Gs in the cockpit of an F16, but it was a rush nonetheless.

And, like all good things in his life, it was over too soon, as the stable and ranch came into view up ahead. John made a couple minute adjustments until she was aimed straight for the stable door. He could hear Rodney and PJ on their heels. Peej wasn’t as fast as Atlantis, he thought with a grin, as she went unerringly, fearlessly, right through the open door.

John sat up, pulling back hard on the reins to stop her, hooves clacking on the wooden floor as Atlantis came to a stop about halfway down the aisle, chest heaving. She tossed her head and whuffed a breath. John let out another bright, happy laugh as the lingering adrenaline coursed through him.

“You’re crazy!” Rodney announced his presence, as PJ came to an abrupt stop behind them.

John twisted around in the saddle, his heart racing like he’d just run the race himself. Rodney’s face was flushed with excitement, a light in his eyes that answered the light in John’s own. John grinned. “I win!”

“You cheated! I demand a rematch!” Rodney’s words were harsh, but John could see him fighting back a smile of his own. Yeah, he’d enjoyed himself, all right.

John couldn’t help but laugh again—he’d been laughing a lot this afternoon, his brain noted—and hopped off Atlantis. He tied her reins around a hook on the wall and walked over to Peej. “How did I cheat?” he asked, coming to a stop next to them, and looked up at Rodney, hands on his hips. “Swing your leg over; I’ll help you down.”

“You—you made me think—you said _race you_ and then didn’t even give me any time to think!” Rodney retorted, leaning forward to swing his leg over PJ’s back. 

A grimace rippled across his face and John moved to assist, grabbing Rodney’s ankle and guiding it the rest of the way. Muscles Rodney had probably never used before in his life were groaning in protest, as John had known they would when he’d set them on course back to the stable. “Well, yeah,” John said, reaching up to grab hold of Rodney’s waist as he started out of the saddle. “That’s the point of racing someone, isn’t it?”

Rodney half-slid, half-fell the rest of the way out of the saddle, twisting as he went so that when his feet were on the floor, they were face to face. “It only counts if—if both the parties are aware that it’s . . . that it’s a race . .” Rodney said, voice trailing off. He swallowed and John could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

His jeans were abruptly way too tight as John realized just how close they actually were right then. And that his hands—hands that had just been gripping Rodney’s waist—were now wrapped around Rodney’s upper arms. As soon as that realization crossed his mind, John found himself staring at Rodney’s mouth. The space between them seemed to crackle, the tension they’d been dancing around all afternoon suddenly out in the open. Warming the air between them with something that John hadn’t felt in a long damn time and he found that he wanted it. Him.

He wanted Rodney in the worst way and he didn’t even know what to think about that.

John wet his now-dry lips. Rodney’s breath caught, lips parting invitingly. John couldn’t think about what a bad idea this was, about how he was supposedly seeing someone. Someone who never, not once, made him feel this hot and tense and just all around _needy_. He had to do this, had to just—break the tension between them so they could move on. All John really needed was just a taste—just a glimpse of what that constantly moving mouth could taste like—and he’d be good. He refused to acknowledge what a blatant lie that was.

John dragged his gaze away from Rodney’s mouth, up to his eyes. Those brilliant blue eyes had darkened with desire, intent and fully focused on John. Rodney seemed to be waiting for John to make a move. Having Rodney’s entire focus on him set fire rushing through John’s veins, leaving nothing behind but want. John leaned in, certain that Rodney could hear how loud his heart was pounding in his chest. 

Rodney moved his arms, the muscles flexing under John’s fingers, and John felt him grip John’s waist, hold him steady, like he thought John would fall or something. John wasn’t altogether certain he wouldn’t. _What would he taste like?_ John wondered as he closed the inches between them. He had a feeling it would involve coffee. The inkling that this was a bad idea still lingered in the back of his mind, but he was too focused on the way Rodney’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips.

John’s eyes fluttered closed. He could feel Rodney’s breath on his face, felt a chill run down his spine, and let a hand slide up Rodney’s arm to curl around the back of his neck as he moved that last little bit to press their mouths together—

\--a horse whinnied loudly, inspiring a return whinny from both Atlantis and Peej.

John’s eyes flew open and he took a startled step backwards. His heart was still racing, chest heaving, and it took him a long moment to get his bearings back. A quick glance at Rodney showed he was having the same trouble and he was still flushed, maybe more so now. 

Men’s voices reached his ears, engaged in conversation. Evan and Aiden walked into the stable, Aiden leading his horse behind them. John didn’t even think to wonder about why the kid wasn’t with Ronon because they seemed to realize they’d interrupted something and stopped talking. Stopped walking. Evan looked from John to Rodney and raised an eyebrow, but he only said neutrally, “What’s up, guys?”

John was still hot and he felt a flush start to creep up his face at his friend’s supposedly innocent question. Because there was no way Evan hadn’t seen, noted, and come to the conclusion that what he assumed had happened, had happened. Refusing to acknowledge the glaringly obvious erection tenting his jeans—and most likely Rodney’s, if he had the courage to look over that way again—John answered, “Just teaching McKay how to ride.” He was quite proud of the fact that his voice was only a little rougher than usual.

Evan’s eyes danced with amusement and John knew he was gonna get hell for this. “I see. Good ride?”

Rodney made a choking sound, drawing John’s attention. He was still bright red and wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. John’s eyes flicked down for a second—yup. There was a suspicious bulge in Rodney’s jeans. “I, uh,” he muttered, “I need to, uh . . . Program.” Rodney edged past John without touching him—for which John was grateful, because he was one hundred percent positive that he would come in a heartbeat if Rodney had. That, or spontaneously combust with all the heat rushing through him. Rodney edged past Evan, Aiden, and the horse, then practically fled from the barn back to the house. 

Once he was gone, Evan looked back at John, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” John muttered, and turned away to take Peej into his stall so he could remove the tack from the horses.

Evan chuckled lowly, knowingly, and John felt his flush deepen. “I’m taking the truck out to help Ronon with getting the herd settled. Aiden’s coming with me. You good here?”

John lifted a hand in acknowledgment and shut the stall door behind him, then he buried his face in PJ’s mane and groaned. What the fuck was he doing? He should not be entertaining thoughts of kissing Rodney—or doing anything else with him, for that matter—let alone _acting_ on it!

And yet . . . John couldn’t deny Todd never made him feel like this.

Was it worth it to potentially destroy a good thing for someone who wasn’t planning on staying?

* * *

John walked up the gravel drive, hands in his pockets, and took a deep breath of the brisk nighttime winter air. No light around but what nature gave and the front porch up ahead. He liked to make sure that Laura made it safely onto the road, headed home, when she was here. And tonight she’d left late, later than usual, and John had insisted on going with her to the end of the drive before hopping out. 

The ranch was all lit up before him and for a second, John stopped to wonder what Rodney had been thinking when he’d stumbled upon the sign for the Sheppard Family Ranch. Relief? Hope? Had he realized how much he would like it here? John had felt and thought those same things upon his own arrival. The ranch had become a haven for him, for Evan . . . and maybe for Rodney.

John studied the building he now called home and tried to think about when he’d visited as a boy. He had the photo on his desk but for the life of him, he could only bring vague memories to the surface. The ranch house had been fully furnished when he’d come out, only faintly dusty because someone had been taking care of it, but John hadn’t investigated too much of it over the years. He hadn’t wanted the memories to swallow him but now . . . John wondered if there were any photo albums or mementos Mom had left behind when she married Father. He thought, maybe, he was ready now. 

With all the lights on in the windows, it looked . . . welcoming, and John could see how Rodney would have been relieved to find him here. It. Find _it_ here. John frowned then headed around back. He’d grab a cup of coffee then head up to his room, maybe read a little before crashing for the night. As he rounded the side of the house, John glanced over to the guest house—Evan’s place. Smaller than the main house, it was close enough to allow Evan to be there quickly when John needed him yet far enough away that they each had a modicum of privacy and independence. In contrast to the brightly lit main house, Evan’s windows were mostly dark but for a couple of lights on downstairs. He smiled a little, figuring Evan was probably trying to balance the books or some other sort of paperwork designed to keep the place afloat. He was good at that. John would be forever grateful for the day that Evan had shown up as his copilot because, whether he’d known it or not at the time, John had gained a friend for life.

They’d been inseparable, the seven of them. John, Evan, Stackhouse, Markham, Mitch, Dex, Holland. Then they’d lost three and then John had been discharged, Evan leaving soon after. John wondered if the guys were still over there, if they knew what had happened. He assumed they kept in touch with Evan, at the very least. He sighed and continued on. Friends weren’t something John did easily. He could fake it well enough but he kept people at arm’s length. He blamed his childhood for his inability to allow someone in enough to be considered a friend. John hadn’t really cared all that much. He’d enlisted to fly, not make friends, but somehow Evan hadn’t gotten the memo. And through him, John had gained a small group of people he cared about and who cared about him. There were times that John wished he was more capable of opening up, of letting someone know the real him. Of everyone in his life, Evan probably knew him the best and that was after years of knowing each other.

John snorted, the breath fogging the air in front of him. Hell, Evan knew him better than his so-called boyfriend did. He opened the back gate and stepped in, locking it behind him, and headed for the kitchen door. A couple of months ago—hell, even last week—John would have said he had everything he needed now that he couldn’t fly. John hadn’t thought he needed—or wanted—anything else.

And then in walked Rodney, literally. He burst into John’s life like a force of nature and set John on fire, in more ways than one. John couldn’t stop thinking about him. He could get lost in those blue eyes of his, watching his hands fly as he spoke. He was kind of an ass, yeah, but John could tell that was just because he was insecure and he let that show around John.

So, yeah, John liked him. Liked him a hell of a lot. Maybe more than he should. 

John reached for the knob but something stopped him before pulling it open. He turned and something gripped his chest tight. Rodney was outside on the patio, leaning on the fence with his head tipped back, looking up at the night sky. John followed his gaze and saw a clear sky—not a cloud or snowflake in sight. He lowered his gaze and he felt something flicker deep inside. 

Rodney liked it here. And they were both clearly attracted to each other. John looked over at Rodney again, thinking. He’d moved away from the railing to sit on one of the benches, still gazing skyward. Maybe it was time to see just what this connection between them was. If it was just something that would fizzle out or if it was something more, it was time John knew. Only then could he make an informed decision. That settled, John went inside and set the kettle to boil but instead of reaching for the coffee mix, he pulled down two mugs and the cocoa.

He didn’t think too much about what he was doing as he poured steaming water into the mugs and stirred. He added a dash of milk like his mom used to, grabbed them by the handles and headed back outside. Rodney didn’t notice him coming, or maybe he did and just didn’t want to acknowledge him. Either way, Rodney didn’t lower his gaze until John came to a stop in front of him.

Light leaked out through the curtains in the house, mixing with the fire to create shadows on Rodney’s face as he silently looked up at John. John couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t tell if he was welcome or not, as he held one mug out. “Hot chocolate?”

Rodney studied him silently then reached out to take the proffered drink, his fingers brushing John’s as he did. It sent a shiver down John’s spine, confirming something he hadn’t realized he’d been looking for. Like he’d been trying to downplay or refute whatever had been happening in the stable but this . . . John knew that flip in his gut as he sat down next to Rodney. He blew on his drink, took a sip. Beside him, Rodney did the same, fingers wrapped gingerly around the hot ceramic mug. John nearly choked on his cocoa when he realized he was staring.

They sat in silence for several minutes then John asked, in a tone he hoped was casual, “So, what are you doing out here?”

Rodney leaned back against the bench, tipping his head back, hands wrapped around his mug. “I’ve never seen the night sky so clear without a telescope. I couldn’t resist any longer.”

John watched him, admiring his profile in the firelight. With the darkness, he could let himself look. And feel. “Star-gazing?” he made himself ask, his voice only a little rough.

Rodney turned his head a little, giving him a small, almost shy, smile. “I was fascinated by them when I was younger. By the time I was eight, I could locate and name all the constellations from my backyard.”

John smiled softly, imagining a young McKay with his eye glued to a telescope. Yeah, he could see that. “That why you became an astrophysicist?” he asked, voice quiet.

Rodney turned back to the stars. “Mmhmm, part of it. I love the mystery of it all. I like the discovery, the idea that there’s always something new to find. We’re always learning new things about our solar system. It’s ever-changing, ever-growing, a whole wide world out there.”

John took a drink then lowered his mug, shifting so he could lean back, copying Rodney’s position. Stars glittered in the blackness above them, making it seem like the world was endless. “So what constellations do you see here?”

Rodney scanned the sky then lifted a hand from his mug, pointing. “That one, there?” His fingers traced a pattern. “That’s Orion.”

“Orion,” John repeated, trying to see what he saw. All he saw was a bunch of dots but hey, if Rodney said it made a constellation . . . “That’s that Greek guy, right?”

Rodney laughed a little. “Greek hunter, but yeah, close enough. Now, you see that bright blue star? There, at the bottom right of the constellation?”

John squinted up at the sky. “Umm . . .”

Rodney shifted closer, their shoulders now touching. Rodney took John’s arm and lifted it until it was pointed at a blue dot in the darkness. “There. See it?”

John nodded. “Oh. Yeah.” There was a star that had a tinge of blue to it.

“That’s Rigel. It’s a blue supergiant star that’s approximately 860 light-years away from Earth. And, actually, it’s not just one star. It’s the brightest star of a cluster of four that appear to us as a single blue-white point of light in the night sky,” Rodney explained.

John glanced at him, seeing the scientist in him for the first time. His passion made his eyes shine, even in the dark. “You really do know your stars,” he said.

Rodney gave him a bright smile then asked, “Do you not look up at the sky when you’re out here? It’s so beautiful out here and all so much more visible than in the city. You don’t even need all the fancy equipment that I do to just . . . look.”

John shrugged, feeling his mood dip a little. “I lost the sky four years ago when I left the service,” he replied wistfully. “Haven’t really had the heart to look too hard.”

Rodney reached over, put a hand on his leg. It burned through John’s jeans like a brand even after Rodney had lifted it and told him, “Let me show you what you’ve been missing.”

So John let him. Rodney pointed out stars and constellations visible to the naked eye, and some not, and gave John the science and history behind them. Every now and then, John leaned forward to toss another log on the fire. They eventually ran out of hot chocolate, but neither of them showed any interest in getting up to make more.

John found himself more interested in watching the way passion filled Rodney’s voice as he explained the stars to John than looking at the actual stars.

“ . . . relatively faint constellation but if you look closely, you might be able to see Monoceros just there. Do you see it?” Rodney glanced at John to see if he could, then did a double take when he saw that John’s gaze was on him. He couldn’t tell if Rodney blushed in the dark, but he could see the pulse jump in his throat.

John made no move to disguise the fact that he’d been staring. He was tired of fighting not to feel what he was feeling. He knew he shouldn’t even be looking, but Todd had crossed a line that John hadn’t even known he’d had. And then that afternoon . . . that ride with Rodney. Something had shifted and John was finding that he no longer had the desire to fight what was clearly mutual here. He knew he shouldn’t, that he was technically dating someone, but he hadn’t felt this alive in years and he wanted . . . He _wanted_.

“Yeah,” he murmured, lifting a hand to grip the back of Rodney’s neck, “I see it.”

Rodney’s sudden sharp, in-drawn breath was the only sound he made before John covered his mouth with his. His lips were warm and soft and John pressed closer, curling his fingers in Rodney’s hair. This kiss had none of the inferno-like feeling and heat from earlier but it ached just the same. This kiss was sweeter. So much sweeter.

John drew back after a long moment, heart racing. They stared at each other for a second, then both of them leaned back in at the same time. Rodney’s mouth parted and John slid his tongue in, tasting that passion, mixed with hints of coffee and hot chocolate. It was intoxicating and John wanted more. He pressed closer, felt Rodney’s arms come around him, slid his hand up inside Rodney’s coat to press against his back.

When they finally parted for breath, John was half in Rodney’s lap, Rodney’s erection pressing against his thigh. John licked his lips, panting. He felt dizzy with want, like everything had a shine to it despite the pitch black waiting just beyond their ring of light. Rodney’s blue eyes drew him in, like a moth to a light, and John couldn’t resist. He leaned in for a quick kiss, tangling his fingers in Rodney’s hair. 

“God, I want you,” Rodney murmured, reaching up to caress his cheek. His fingers were cold against John’s flushed skin. His other hand was pressed against John’s lower back, just above the waistband of his jeans. “I’ve been waiting forever for you to figure it out. I thought I’d actually have to make the first move but then the barn. And I thought—but then your friend interrupted and I didn’t know what to do.”

John kissed him again. “Shut up and kiss me.” Rodney huffed a laugh against his mouth and pulled John fully into his lap, John’s legs straddling him. 

They made out for a while, the cold air not a factor as they generated their own heat. Eventually, though, they had to stop or clothes would have to be lost. John reluctantly wrenched his mouth away from Rodney’s and rested his forehead against his. There was no denying the attraction was mutual—John’s pants were unbearably tight and he could feel Rodney’s erection pressed against his thigh. It would be so easy to slip a hand inside, grip Rodney’s cock and . . . “I think,” John started then stopped, abruptly uncertain where to take that sentence.

Rodney studied him, brushed his lower lip with his thumb. “We should call it a night.”

Relief and disappointment warred within him. He was disappointed he wasn’t going to get lucky but that was also where the relief came in. He definitely had enough data to know that this was already more of a connection than he’d had with someone in a long time and John needed to figure out what to do with that information. Maybe Rodney had the right idea.

Still . . . John leaned in for one last, brief, press of lips before pulling back. It was with great reluctance that John slid out of Rodney’s lap and onto his own side of the bench. He took a minute to catch his breath then looked over. Rodney’s eyes were on him. “I’ll see you in the morning, then?” John said.

Rodney nodded.

John stood but Rodney didn’t. He looked down at him. “Coming?”

“I think I’m gonna stay out a little longer, look at the stars.”

“Okay.” John rubbed the back of his neck. It was probably for the best. He needed to regain his equilibrium and having Rodney nearby wouldn’t help. “Good night, Rodney.”

He headed for the patio door, sliding it open, and stepped inside, Rodney’s soft, “Good night, John,” following him in.


	6. Chapter Six

The next morning found John working on that damn fence again, using the physical exertion to try and work things out. Like what to do now that he and Rodney had finally acknowledged the thing between them. God, he hadn’t felt like that in years. John was still thinking about that kiss, could still feel the heat of Rodney’s body against his. His lips still tingled when he thought about it. John wanted more and that was a problem.

Because he shouldn’t. He’d just needed to satisfy the craving and then he could move on. But it hadn’t worked that way. The craving had intensified instead.

He hooked the hammer on the nail and jimmied it, trying to get enough of a gap to pull it out of the deadened wood. Add to that the fact that he also couldn’t stop thinking about what Todd had come by to talk about yesterday and it was no wonder John needed some physical labor.

Like he was going to sell just because Todd thought it was a good business opportunity. John snorted. Please. He wouldn’t sell to Cowan after four attempts and for some reason, upon hearing that, Todd had blown up. Shouting and telling him what an idiot he was and things along those lines. Like he had a say in what John did with the ranch. They’d been together a year and, while there had been sparks at the beginning, at this point it was just comfortable.

Not like what he had with Rodney, even without consummating it.

And John knew, without a doubt, that Rodney would never pressure him to sell. Then again, Rodney already knew more about him than Todd did. John had never mentioned that he was ex-military to him. John blew out his breath in a rush. Man, what a quagmire he’d gotten himself stuck in.

The crunch of boots on snow reached his ears and John glanced up to find his best friend walking up. 

“Thought I might find you here,” Evan said.

“Yeah, well, the fence still needs fixing,” John replied and went back to work on the nail.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Evan lean against the fence next to him, hands in his pockets. He said quietly, “What are you doing, John?”

John gritted his teeth as he ripped a nail free. “I’m fixing this fence. You gonna help or are you just gonna stand there and watch?”

Evan didn’t move. “John.”

He blew out his breath and moved to the next nail. He didn’t want to do this. “I’ll take that as a no,” John replied, ignoring the actual question.

“You know this won’t end well. For any of you.”

“Nothing wrong with fixing a fence.” The nail wouldn’t budge. John shifted, digging his heels into the muddy snow.

“You’re dating someone, remember? Someone who lives here.”

“Todd doesn’t live here. He lives in Aurora Falls.”

“Semantics. You’ve got a good thing going with Todd. Why are you intentionally sabotaging it?”

“I’m not. Todd and I are just going through a rough patch.” John worked the hammer back and forth, refusing to look up. A rough patch that had left such a sour taste in his mouth that John wasn’t sure it was worth it to try and fix it.

“A rough patch,” Evan repeated. “And you’re dealing with this by, what? Cheating on him?”

“I’m not cheating.”

“Then what would you call it? Hmm?”

“Ev . . .”

“Explain it to me, John. Because I can’t figure it out. Why are you doing this? And why him? What is so damn special about this guy that you’re willing to destroy your relationship?” He sounded genuinely curious and maybe a bit frustrated. With John.

John tugged hard and the nail popped free. Shoving the hammer through his belt, he plucked it from the snow and stood. “I _can’t_. Okay? I just . . .” John closed his eyes, braced his hands against the fence. “I haven’t felt like this about someone in a long time. Rodney is . . . he’s smart and kind and vulnerable and nerdy and we like a lot of the same things and he—he gets me. We connect, on a level that I haven’t had before, and I’m fucking tired of fighting it. There’s a part of me that’s been closed off since the Air Force decided they were done with me and I think . . . I think Rodney’s opened it. I want him so much, Evan, that it’s hard to even remember that Todd and I were ever together. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Evan was silent for a long time. “You know what you need to do.”

John looked over. “Do I?”

“Yeah. You need to end things with Todd.”

John shook his head. 

“You know you do. The two of you were never a good fit, but I didn’t say anything because I thought it was what you wanted. And after everything, all I wanted was for you to be happy. If it’s not with him, then you need to end it.” Evan leaned in, catching John’s eye. “And if McKay is who you want, then go for it.”

“What happened to this will end badly for everyone?” John asked with a flash of a smile.

Evan shook his head. “I’m just looking out for you. You forget, I’ve seen you completely broken and had to help you put the pieces back together. I’ve no desire to repeat the experience.”

“So, you’ve been an ass about this whole thing because you’re looking out for me?” John asked, an eyebrow raised.

Evan grinned briefly. “What else are best friends for?”

John rolled his eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder. “You’re an ass.”

“You need some help with the fence?”

John handed him the hammer in response. Evan chuckled and squatted down to rip another nail out. John said quietly, “You know how much I appreciate what you did for me, right?”

Evan paused, looked up. “I know. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat; I just would rather not have to.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us.”

They settled in to work, John feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He may not talk about his feelings often but Evan had been there at his worst which made it easier to talk about it with him. “So does this mean I can ask about you and Liz?” John asked.

Evan scowled at him. “Get your own love life in order. Then you can talk about mine. Maybe.”

“So you still haven’t asked her out, then.” John ducked the snowball that came his way and laughed.

* * *

“Hey,” John said, ducking his head around the doorway into the office, “I’m heading into town. You wanna come?”

Absorbed in his screen, Rodney didn’t hear him. 

“Rodneeeeeyy,” John said, a little louder.

With a start, Rodney looked up from his laptop, fingers stilling momentarily. He blinked. “Oh. Hey. How long have you been standing there?”

“An hour or so.”

Rodney blinked again. “What? Really?”

“No. More like five seconds.” John grinned and stepped inside. He was dressed for outside, cheeks still red from the cold. It was kind of becoming a favorite look of Rodney’s: the flush, the light in his eyes. “I have to run into town; thought maybe you’d like to come along? Take a break from staring at a computer screen?”

Rodney looked at the computer screen then up at John. “We’re not literally running, are we?” he asked warily.

John’s grin widened. “Why, you want to race again?”

Rodney felt his face heat at the reminder of how their last race ended. 

“I’m taking the pickup, McKay. You coming or what?”

“Uh.” Rodney looked at his screen again then decided it could wait. He saved his work and said, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come. I have to find my boots, though.” 

“No problem. Meet me out front in a bit?”

“Uh, sure.”

John ducked out of the office while Rodney went about shutting down the computers that he hadn’t actually been working on. Well, not the kind of work John thought he was doing. He left his laptop sitting next to John’s computer then went to go rescue the borrowed boots from where he’d left them by the kitchen door—apparently they were John’s old boots and they fit Rodney nearly perfectly. His coat hung in the closet just inside the front entrance and he shoved his hat in the pocket, just in case. 

Rodney stepped out onto the porch as he pulled his gloves on and had to squint in the bright afternoon sunlight. “Jesus, how is anyone supposed to see anything in this?” he muttered, shading his eyes with a hand as he made his way down the steps. John was standing at the front of the truck, talking with Ronon. 

When John saw Rodney, he smiled and it was like a shot to the chest. John Sheppard was so far off from what he thought he wanted—or who would ever want him—and yet they clicked. He knew they did and he knew that he wanted more.

Rodney joined them as Ronon was saying, “. . . ving. There’s a storm coming.”

As John nodded, taking his words seriously, Rodney frowned and looked up. At the clear blue sky and the bright sunlight shining down. Not a cloud in sight. Riiiiight . . . . “Alright,” John said, clapping his hands together. “You ready, McKay?”

Rodney nodded, tugged his gloves on a little tighter, and reached for the passenger side door. John clapped Ronon on the shoulder then went around to climb in the driver’s side. He slid his sunglasses on, did a quick turn then drove down the driveway and pulled out onto the street. Rodney gave it a couple minutes then asked, “You don’t really believe him, do you? I mean, there’s zero chance of a storm happening. Just look at the sky!”

Lowering his sunglasses to rest on the tip of his nose, John leaned forward to look up through the windshield. He pulled back, slid his sunglasses back up, and shrugged. “Ronon’s been known to have these insights into things. I believe him.”

“Hmmph. Well, I don’t. How did you even meet him, anyway?”

“He came with the ranch.”

“ . . . I’m sorry, what?” Rodney had a sudden vision of John walking into the house to find Ronon as a housewarming gift. He squinched his eyes shut and tried to get rid of it. 

John chuckled. “He’s been the primary caretaker since my mom passed. So when I came out and officially took over ownership, I kept him on. He’s taught me quite a lot in the past few years.”

Rodney blinked. Did he just—? “Your mom passed . . .?”

“Yeah. She had cancer when I was a teenager.”

“I’m so sorry.”

John smiled sadly. “Thanks.” Another bit of silence as John drove along the surprisingly clean street. “So,” he said, in a determined _let’s-change-the-subject_ sort of tone. “What did you do this morning? Get any work done?”

“Ah, yeah, a bit.” Rodney bit his lip before correcting himself, “No. Not at all.”

John laughed. “So what have you been doing all morning?”

“Fiddling with my star map. A bit.” Rodney sighed. “Actually, I spent most of the morning out on the back patio. I meant what I said: it’s nice and quiet here. I feel like I can actually hear myself think and being able to see the stars without the use of multiple pieces of technology . . . . it’s nice. It reminds me of when I was a kid, looking up at them in the backyard. And, you know, I can see why you don’t want to sell it.” He had found himself distracted more than once as he’d tried to work but when he’d refilled his coffee and stepped outside, it was like all his stresses disappeared. And as he sat out there, Rodney had had that vision again: of seeing Maddie out there, running through the snow.

John gave him a sharp look but only said, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And, I was thinking . . .”

“About what?”

“Well, how come you haven’t turned this into a dude ranch like all the other family ranches have done? You know, invite all the city people like me out here and teach them how to be cowboys and things like that.”

John gave him a startled look this time. “Since when do you know what a dude ranch is?”

“Since I started thinking I’d like to bring my niece out here.” Rodney felt himself start to blush a little but forged on, “Obviously I wouldn’t subject you to a little kid staying in your house. Me staying there is one thing; a little kid is completely different. And since you don’t have any cabins or things like that, we’d have to go somewhere else. Did you know there are actually quite a lot of dude ranches out there? Maddie—my niece—would love to learn how to ride. It’s what little girls like, right? I’d be the best uncle ever if I took her to learn how to ride.”

John said quietly, “I could teach her.”

It was Rodney’s turn to give him a sharp look because he’d sounded almost shy. And he wasn’t meeting Rodney’s eyes, though that could be because he was driving and Rodney approved of being fully focused on driving. And those damn sunglasses. “Are we talking about the kind of teaching you gave me?” he asked, trying to give John an out if he wanted one. “Because I’m not sure my sister would qualify an hour’s worth of riding followed by a race as teaching.”

John chuckled and Rodney caught the sign for Aurora Falls up ahead out of the corner of his eye. “Aw come on, you had fun, admit it!”

“Yes, well, it was . . . yes, alright, it was fun.”

“Ha!” 

“But still. Maddie’s eight! You can’t do that with an eight-year-old!”

“I promise I’ll go easy on her. I’ve got helmets so your sister won’t have to worry about the safety aspect. And we’ll stay in the front pasture until I’m sure she can handle the uneven terrain.”

Rodney studied him because it sounded like John was being serious about this. That it wasn’t just a hypothetical. “You’d do that?”

John slowed the truck as they rolled into town. His ears were slightly red as he said, “Sure. Why not? She can’t be any worse of a rider than you are.”

Rodney opened his mouth to defend himself then realized John was teasing him. It made him feel warm inside. So instead he grinned and said, “I’ll beat you next time. You know, if I _knew_ it was a race.”

John laughed, a loud bright sound that filled Rodney’s chest. Oh yeah, he was falling hard. “Never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” he said cheerily. He liked this, this joking back and forth. He’d never had that with someone before. Even with Radek—his closest friend—it was half actual insults but John, he could tell, didn’t mean it. “So what are we doing in town?”

“I’ve got a couple errands to run.” John honked his horn then stuck his hand out the window and waved at someone. “Let me know if there’s somewhere you want to go. I may have mentioned this before but I only come in once or twice a week.”

“Sure.” Rodney looked out the window, scanning storefronts to see if there was anything of interest. He noted a bookstore he wouldn’t mind visiting and then John was pulling into the parking lot of a mid-sized market. Apparently he’d actually meant grocery shopping when he said errands.

He trailed after John as he grabbed a cart, greeted the cashier then started down the aisles in no particular order that Rodney could figure. After they’d trekked across the entire market three times, he had to say something. “You do know you’re supposed to go in order of the aisles, right?” Rodney asked as John turned down yet another random aisle. “That’s why they have numbers on them.”

John grabbed a box of pancake mix off a shelf and tossed it in the cart. “Yeah, I guess you could do it that way. I have a list, though, and I’m following that.”

Rodney made a point of looking for said list and John laughed. 

He leaned into Rodney’s space, tapped the side of Rodney’s head, and said, “It’s all up here.” Rodney swallowed hard. John pulled back. “And it’s not in order of the aisles. It’s in the order of when I remembered to add it to the list.”

“You’re weird, you know that?”

John laughed again and pushed the cart down another aisle.

Rodney watched it slowly fill up and had a flash of memory. The last time he’d been in town shopping with John. That hardware store, well, actually, the guy who ran the hardware store. He’d said something about John being good for it and not needing payment until later. Rodney frowned slightly as they got in line at the register. John was having financial troubles, he remembered that now. That Genii guy had mentioned something, too, hadn’t he? Was that why they kept trying to convince John to sell? Because even Rodney knew that was never going to happen unless something terrible happened and it was the only option. John started to offload the items onto the belt and Rodney came to a decision. He decided that he would pay for the groceries.

Then, on the heels of that, he realized there was no way John would let him. Damn. He inched the cart forward as the customer in front of them moved up. That customer paid and left and then John was chatting with the girl at the register. She giggled as she started to scan the items and Rodney felt a frown cross his face.

Then John snapped his fingers and said, “Crap. Forgot something. Be right back.”

And Rodney had his chance. As soon as John disappeared down an aisle, Rodney moved up to the register. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She looked up at him. “Hey, you’re the guy who’s been staying at John’s place, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Rodney leaned forward, aware he only had a few moments to get this done. “Listen,” he looked at her nametag, “. . . Cassie, I need a favor.”

Cassie kept scanning and bagging. “What kind of favor?”

“I want to pay for the groceries but I don’t want John to know. Can you help me with that?”

Cassie paused and looked up at him. She narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you want him to know?”

“Because he’s a proud bastard and won’t accept help,” Rodney said bluntly, then instantly regretted his choice of words.

But it worked because she grinned. “Yeah, he is. He’s known for it around town. How do you want to do this?”

Rodney really hadn’t thought she’d go along with it so this was as far as his plan went. He thought fast, knowing John was already on his way back with whatever he’d forgotten. He pulled out his wallet and took his bank card out. “Can you take this and when the total comes up, just run mine instead of his? Go through the motions, have him sign the receipt and everything, but just don’t run his card. Will that work?”

Cassie scanned a bag of apples and thought it over as she stuck it in a bag. “Yeah, I think that can work. You’d have to sign the real receipt, though, or I’ll get in trouble.”

“No problem,” Rodney agreed with a nod. “I—I—I can do that while he’s grabbing bags and not paying attention. Right. That—that should work. So . . . yes?”

“Yes,” Cassie agreed and took his card when he handed it over. She tucked it next to the card reader on her register and went back to scanning the rest of the items.

And just in time. Not five seconds later, John rejoined them, setting a tin on the belt. He gave Rodney a grin and said, “Wouldn’t want to run out.”

Curious, Rodney leaned around him to see what he’d had to go get and turned red. It was cocoa mix. Pulling back, he found John watching him, his gaze intense. Rodney replied, “No. Running out would be bad.”

It must have been the right thing to say because John bumped his shoulder with his then moved past him to hand over his bank card. Rodney caught Cassie’s eye as she took it, silently reminding her not to run it. She turned to the card reader and winked at him. He was watching her closely while John started loading bags into the cart and he managed to just see her flip cards before inserting one of them. Good. He had no idea what the total was, but anything he could do to help John not have to sell his home was good.

It didn’t even occur to him to wonder why he was so invested in this all of a sudden.

A receipt started to print and Cassie handed it and a card to John with a pen. “Sign this.”

John scanned the receipt then signed it with a flatness to his mouth before sliding it back and pocketing his card. As John turned to grab the rest of the bags, Cassie quickly slid another receipt towards Rodney with his own card. He checked the total as he signed and knew he’d made the right choice. He waited until John’s back was turned before handing the signed copy back to her. He whispered, “Thanks.”

She whispered back, “You’re welcome.” Then, louder, “Have a good day!”

“Thanks, Cassie,” John said as he set the last bag in the cart with a thunk and Rodney pushed the cart out the market after him. 

As they went over to the pickup, something occurred to him. “Hey,” Rodney said, as John lowered the gate and climbed up into the bed. His brain momentarily stuttered when John’s ass was on display in front of him as John lifted himself up. He had a really nice ass and those jeans . . .

“Rodney?”

Rodney started, flushed slightly as he realized he’d been caught staring. Since John only raised an eyebrow, eyes crinkled, Rodney asked, “How did you plan to keep things cold if you have other errands to run?”

“Same way I planned on keeping them cold on the drive home later—ice box in the bed.” 

Rodney went up on his toes to look and, sure enough, there was a white box at the front of the pickup bed. So that’s what that was. He’d seen it when they picked up the wood but as John hadn’t used it, he didn’t know what it was for.

“You wanna hand the bags up?”

“Oh! Right. Yes, I can do that.” Rodney started setting bags on the gate. John would pick them up and move them to the far end where he set them inside the box. They worked quickly and easily together then John hopped out, shoved the gate up and into place, then ran a hand through his hair. Rodney felt the sudden urge to do it himself and had to grip the cart’s handle tight to keep his hands to himself.

“So,” John said. “Anything catch your eye?”

_You_. But Rodney kept that to himself, no matter what he thought was happening. Because it seemed like John wanted this to be more than just a kiss between . . . what even were they? They weren’t strangers and Rodney wasn’t much of an expert on friends. And, besides, friends didn’t want to kiss you or have sex with you. “There was a bookstore back that way a bit I wouldn’t mind checking out, if you don’t mind.”

John nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

So, after Rodney returned the cart to the market, they went to the bookstore where Rodney found himself in nirvana. It wasn’t the kind of tiny, one-room, only have random titles kind of bookstore he’d been expecting. No, this bookstore was two stories of bliss and organized by genre and it had classics and popular titles. He wandered from section to section, not limiting himself—except for the self-help. And the non-fiction, unless it was science-related. And the children’s books. He had no idea how much time passed as he browsed, picking up a book here and there. When Rodney finally went to find John, he had an armful of books that reached up to his chin.

It took some doing because he had no idea where to find John. He’d assumed the sci-fi section but since Rodney was just in there and John wasn’t . . . well. And then he discovered that the bookstore had a little café in the back and that was where he found John.

John sat in a chair with his feet up on the table, ankles crossed, flipping casually through a book with a to-go cup of coffee. Rodney approached him from behind, trying to keep his book pile from teetering too far in one direction. Looking over his shoulder, Rodney saw diagrams and trajectories and wondered what they were for. He must have made some sort of noise as he tried to lean in closer because John closed it with a snap. Rodney went and sat down in the other chair. John eyed his pile then let out a little laugh. “Jeez, McKay, you gonna buy out the store?”

“This isn’t even all I wanted, just all I could carry,” Rodney replied. The book on top started to slide off. “This is a great bookstore.”

John snagged it before he could and flipped it over to look at the cover. “Leviathan’s Wake,” he read. He looked at Rodney. “Hard science space epic. Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“The science is surprisingly accurate for a fictional story. What did you find?”

John set Rodney’s book back on top of his stack and moved the book he’d been flipping through so Rodney could see the cover. It was about the mechanics and science of flight. “Just reminiscing a little.”

“You’re gonna have to tell me about it one day, because I just can’t figure out why someone would want to put themselves in a tiny little cockpit to go the speed of sound,” Rodney said.

John gave him a sharp, appraising kind of look then got to his feet with a screech of chair legs. “Yeah,” he said. “One day. You all set or do you want to keep looking?”

Had he said something wrong? God he was so bad at relationships. And they technically weren’t even in one yet. “Are we in a rush?”

“Well, Ronon did mention he thought there was a storm coming and we should probably try to beat it home.”

“Oh. Well, then I guess I’m good for now.” Rodney tried to stand and his book stack wobbled dangerously.

John grabbed a few off the stack then gripped his elbow to steady him as he tried again. On his feet now, Rodney’s stomach flipped when he noted how close they were. If he took a deep breath, his chest would brush against John’s. Lifting his gaze, he saw John’s tongue dart out to wet his lips and lifted his gaze further. John’s gaze was steady on him but he held himself tightly, like he was waiting to see what Rodney would do. He took a chance and crossed the scant few inches, pressing his mouth to John’s.

John’s mouth opened under his, turning what had originally been intended as a quick kiss into something more. Something hotter. And just as that heat started to pool low in Rodney’s groin, John pulled away. Rodney blinked. John backed up a step and said, “We really should get going if we’re gonna beat the snow, but hold onto that thought, okay?”

A little breathless, Rodney nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” John hesitated a moment then turned and headed for the front of the store, half of Rodney’s books in the crook of his elbow. Rodney hurried after him, catching up as John set the books on the counter. Rodney added his then saw that John’s wasn’t on the counter.

“Hey, where’s your book?”

John shrugged. “Eh, I don’t need it.”

“Books aren’t about need. They’re about want,” Rodney told him, looking around for where he might have set it down. “If you want it, get it.”

“It’s fine.”

Ah ha, there it was! Rodney darted over and pulled it off the shelf, slapping it down on the counter with a defiant air. He met John’s gaze and silently dared him to take it back. John’s mouth flattened but he didn’t say anything. The cashier scanned and bagged all the books in a reusable bag that he then charged Rodney for. Well, at least it was sturdy enough to hold all his books. Rodney hefted the bag in his arms as they stepped outside.

And into a snowstorm.

“Fuck,” John muttered, hunching his shoulders against the cold. 

“Where did that even come from?” Rodney demanded, staring out at the bundles of white flakes filling the air and the clouds that covered the dark gray sky.

“Welcome to Wyoming,” John replied as he started down the sidewalk.

Rodney hurried after him, snowflakes hitting his face like little flicks of cold water. “No, I’m serious. There was no indication that a snowstorm was coming! How did he know that?”

John glanced sidelong at him. “Aren’t you from Canada?”

“Yes. So?”

“So don’t they have snowstorms up there?”

“Well yes of course they do but there’s usually some way to know they’re coming that doesn’t rely on a mountain of a man telling you that the clearly uncloudy sky is suddenly going to be dumping precipitation on you!”

“I don’t think uncloudy is a word,” John mused as they hustled. 

God, why’d they have to leave the truck in the lot on another block? They could have parked on the street. Granted, Rodney had kind of enjoyed walking with John but now he wished they didn’t have to walk in the snow. His books were rather heavy. He rolled his eyes. “Oh you know what I mean!”

John chuckled. “Weather’s unpredictable, especially near the mountains.”

Rodney adjusted his grip on the bag, mentally composing a lecture on why bags needed handles, when his foot slid out from under him. Oh this was going to hurt. And be wet.

But he never landed in the snow. Because John had managed to catch him in time and now Rodney was clutching John’s coat, John’s arms around him. 

“You okay?” John asked.

He had snowflakes on his eyelashes, Rodney noted. Then nodded. “Yeah. Um, thanks.”

“No problem.” 

After another moment, John let go and Rodney stepped back. Seriously, if he didn’t get to touch John without a fucking coat in the way soon, he was going to assume the universe hated him. Rodney looked around to see . . . “Oh fuck.” The bag had landed in the snow on its side, books spilling out the top. He scooped them back into the bag, giving them a cursory look to make sure none were horribly ruined, then got to his feet. “Where did we park the truck again?”

“Just up ahead.” 

A few minutes later, Rodney was settling the bag of books on the floor between his legs as John started the engine and kicked on the heat before getting back out to clean the snow off the windshield.

Rodney watched John pause and look upwards, lips pursed. He looked up and down the street then shook his head. Rodney got a sinking feeling in his gut. John opened the door, letting a rush of cold air in, then slammed it shut and blew on his hands. Rubbing them together, John said, “We’re not gonna outrun this.”

“What?” Rodney asked. “Why not? Isn’t that what pickups are for?”

“It’s not a plow, Rodney,” John retorted. He pointed out the window. “Look, those clouds are moving fast and they’re dumping a lot of snow. If it was just me, I might try to make it home and I’m sure I’d still get caught in one hell of a blizzard. But I’m not alone and I’m not gonna risk it.”

“Okay.” Rodney swallowed, tried not to panic. “So—so what do we do?”

John put the truck in gear. “We find a place to spend the night in town.”


	7. Chapter Seven

Rodney was not a fan of this plan. Then again, he hadn’t been a fan of Jeannie’s plan either and that had turned out quite well, so maybe this wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

The inn that John had originally wanted Rodney to stay at on his first night here _magically_ had an opening. The snow coming down had become near blizzard-like simply on the drive over, so John and Rodney had only had to exchange a look to decide that this was their best bet. Rodney, at least, did not want to go back out there unless he absolutely had to. At least they had a warm place to spend the night and the prospect of dinner.

Halling and his son served a surprisingly tasty stew for dinner. Then, while John used Halling’s phone to call the ranch and let Lorne and the others know the situation, Rodney wandered through the front rooms in search of something to do to pass the time. He could read one of his new books, of course, but that would require going back outside to get his books that they’d left in the truck. Halling had a bookcase but Rodney had already gone through it. Nothing of interest. It was mostly children’s books or trashy romances that women liked to read because their love life sucked.

Then he found the board games. And, tucked in the back, a chess board. Score! Rodney grabbed it and looked around until he found an empty table to set up. John slid into the chair across from him some time later. 

Rodney slid a white bishop over a few squares then carefully spun the board. “Everything okay back at the ranch?”

“Mmmhmm. The guys are up at the main house, Evan insisted on Aiden staying put so we didn’t have to worry about him on the road. They got the animals all settled and made sure the firewood supply was fully stocked. Thankfully Laura hadn’t headed out yet so she’s safely home. Aiden was worried about his grandparents so I offered to call and let them know he was okay. Are you playing with yourself?”

Rodney shrugged and moved a black knight, taking a white pawn and moving it to the side of the board. “No one else has managed to prove to be enough of a challenge so yes, I play myself.”

“Are you winning or losing?”

“Funny.”

“I thought so.”

Rodney glared at him but John just grinned and Rodney’s mouth twitched. He returned to his game as John watched. He was quiet while Rodney made a few more moves then said, “Queen to E5.”

Rodney paused, fingertip on a rook, and looked up. John’s gaze was on the board. Rodney scanned the pieces and then blinked. And blinked again. He hadn’t seen that. “You play?”

John shrugged and threw an arm over the back of the chair, slouching a bit. Rodney just now realized he’d taken his coat off and was sitting there in jeans and a sweater that looked damn good on him. Rodney’s own coat lay draped over the back of his chair. “From time to time. Haven’t played in a while, though, so I’m not sure how much of a challenge I’ll be.”

Chess was always more fun with a partner. Rodney immediately started rearranging the chessmen back to their starting positions. “White or black?”

John’s eyes glinted. “White.”

They were only a few moves in when Rodney realized John had seriously downplayed his skills. ‘ _Not much of a challenge’_ clearly meant something different to John than it did to Rodney because Rodney was second-guessing his moves, trying to guess John’s next moves, get ahead of him. And then he lost his first piece: a bishop to John’s knight he’d never seen coming. Rodney’s eyes narrowed.

John flashed him a grin and a raised eyebrow.

_Oh, it’s on_ , Rodney thought.

They played fast and hard after that, until they were down to just a few pieces each. Rodney was losing. He knew it. John knew it. And the fact that John had not only beaten him but was drawing it out should have infuriated him. In anyone else, it would have. But Rodney was turned on by it. John was succeeding in what very few people did: he beat Rodney. After a couple more futile moves, Rodney gave in and tipped his king over. “You win,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“Good game,” John said.

“Yes, well, clearly you lied about how well you play.”

John shrugged and started to reset the board. “Two out of three?”

Two out of three became three out of five, became five out of seven. Guests headed up to bed. They stopped briefly to get coffee and raid the kitchen for a snack—John had access by right of being friends with the owner. The lights went out at one point and came back on a minute later only to go out completely during their fifth game. Halling brought out candles and lanterns, added logs to the fireplaces. Rodney couldn’t recall a better way to spend an evening during a snowstorm than getting beat at chess by John Sheppard as many times as he beat John at chess.

Eventually, John tipped his king over at the end of a game and stretched in his chair, back arching as he drew in a deep breath. Rodney’s gaze was drawn to the lean lines of his body, how the fabric of his shirt spread over his chest. Rodney’ tongue darted out to wet his lips. John yawned then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry; must be past my bedtime.”

Rodney took a second to find his voice. “What time is it?”

John tugged his sleeve back to look at his watch. “Damn, it’s nearly midnight. We should probably check out our accommodations for the night, huh.”

“Oh. Yes, I—I suppose so.” Rodney started gathering up the chess pieces and dropping them in the box. John helped, their fingers brushing every now and then. He went and tucked it back on the shelf of board games then turned to go back for his coat.

John was going around the room blowing out the candles. Since they were the only ones still up, it seemed prudent. “Um,” Rodney asked, “do we put out the fire, as well?”

John licked his fingers, pinched a flame out, then turned around. He frowned. “Yeah, we probably should.” Rodney watched him go over to the fireplace, crouch in front of it and . . . do whatever a person does when they put out a fire in an indoor fireplace. Still seemed unnecessarily dangerous to have a fire indoors.

Though once it was out, there was a distinct chill in the air. Rodney shivered and made his way back to their table to pull his coat back on. It helped. “Doesn’t this place have a generator?”

“Not everyone can afford their own generator,” John replied, straightening with a faint groan. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s got plenty of blankets for everyone to stay warm tonight.”

“Hmmph,” was Rodney’s reply.

John came over, grabbed his coat and the candle he’d left lit, then headed for the staircase. He stopped briefly to poke his head into the other rooms and make sure those fires were out. Rodney followed on his heels, unwilling to be left in the dark and cold of the downstairs.

“Which one’s ours?” Rodney asked as they reached the second floor.

John glanced over his shoulder and the light from the candle flickered over his face. “Halling said the last room on the left was available for us to use.”

The hallway seemed especially long and it seemed like forever until John was sliding an old-fashioned, honest-to-god key into the lock and swinging the door open. John went in first and Rodney stepped in after him, shivering. It was freezing in here. A little light flared in the corner and John turned from where he’d lit another candle.

He could see John’s flat mouth from the other side of the room and frowned in response. “What? Other than it being freezing cold in here, is something wrong?”

“Not wrong,” John said slowly.

And then Rodney noticed that the room only had one bed. His throat went tight. Okay so this could go one of a few ways. It all depended on . . . well, on John. Because now Rodney was remembering all of those chick flicks he’d been forced to watch by exes and his sister. The ones where the two leads get stuck somewhere and they try to get a hotel room only to find that there’s only one room available and it had only one bed? Right? According to the movies, when two people who weren’t in a relationship—yet—spent the night in a hotel room with one bed, it only ended one way.

John offered, “I’ll take the floor.”

Rodney blinked. “But it’s freezing.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine.” John set the candle on the nightstand, then grabbed a pillow and tucked it under an arm. “Trust me, I’ve slept in worse conditions. At least this time, I’ve got a pillow and blanket.” 

Rodney was momentarily frozen by the offhand remark—that had to have been about his time in the military, right? John tossed the pillow on the floor at the foot of the bed, then took the fleece blanket off the foot of the bed, shook it out, then draped it on the floor. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.

Rodney shut the door as John’s first boot hit the floor with a soft _thunk_. If John felt the tension in the air, he wasn’t showing it. Rodney tossed his coat over the chair with John’s then sat on the opposite side of the bed to remove his own boots. The mattress creaked when John got up and Rodney heard cloth rustling. Tucking his socks into the boots, Rodney got up to pull the covers down and froze when he saw John in the middle of tugging his sweater over his head.

It was lucky that John was wearing a shirt underneath because even the flash of skin in the candlelight left Rodney a little breathless with want. He had to force himself to turn away, moving to the head of the bed to pull the corner of the covers back. “Don’t you want that? Layers and all,” Rodney asked, trying to keep his gaze from straying.

Now clad in just a t-shirt and jeans, John tossed it onto the chair with their coats then retrieved the candle from the nightstand and moved it to the dresser, spreading the light out a little. “I’m good.”

Rodney slid under the covers and shimmied out of his jeans. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to strip in front of John . . . but he didn’t want to strip in front of John. He was lusting after Sheppard, yes, wanted to see him naked, hell yes. But then there was the turnabout of John seeing Rodney naked and Rodney knew he wasn’t really the epitome of physical fitness. Which made him feeling embarrassed enough to undress while under the covers, despite the lack of good light in the room. His feet got tangled briefly as he tugged his jeans out from under the covers then dropped them as quietly as he could on the floor next to the bed. He decided to leave his shirt on and pulled the covers up to his chin, rolling onto his side. The duvet was thick and there was a flannel sheet on the bed so he was warm enough.

He heard John getting settled on the floor, the blanket and pillow rustling out of sight. Rodney slid a hand under the pillow and closed his eyes, determined to go to sleep as soon as he could.

Rodney couldn’t sleep, though. He tried and tried but nothing worked. So he rolled over and smushed his head into the pillow, trying to shut his mind down, hoping that would work. It did. For a bit. Then he heard sounds from where John had camped out and his brain decided that it was going to torment him with scenarios where John uttered those same sounds, just . . . with him. Rodney flopped onto his back and ran his hands over his face. For the love of . . . why? Why couldn’t he stop thinking?

He wondered how much time had passed since they’d come up.

John muttered a soft curse and Rodney heard the blanket rustle again along with the sound of John hitting the pillow. Rodney rolled his eyes. So much for sleeping in worse conditions. John didn’t seem to be very comfortable down there. If sleeping on the floor was considered a good condition, then what did John sleep on when he was in the air force? Rodney frowned and then decided now was as good a time as any to ask something he’d been wondering about for some time now. Rodney whisper-called, “John?”

“Mmmm?”

“You awake?”

A pause. “ . . . . . yeah.”

Rodney hesitated, biting his lip, then asked, still in that half-vocalized whisper, “Can I ask you something?”

Another pause, longer this time. Then John blew out his breath. “I guess.”

He fiddled with the edge of the duvet, tugging at a loose thread in the design. “What made you stop flying? I can see how much you miss it and I just can’t figure out why you would give that up if you didn’t have to.”

This time the pause went on for so long that Rodney thought that John must have either decided not to answer or fallen asleep. When the response did finally come, it was in a quiet voice full of bitterness and anguish. “I didn’t want to. The decision was made for me.”

Rodney remained silent, unmoving, digesting all that those words told him. His chest twisted in sympathy at how much John clearly still missed flying. “Can—can I ask . . . Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” John said on a long drawn-out breath. “Yeah, something happened. And it was my fault.”

“What happened?” Rodney asked softly.

There was a long moment of silence in which the only sounds were their breathing and occasional shift.

John’s quiet voice broke the quiet. “I was a natural pilot. Put me in a cockpit and I could fly anything. It made me cocky. Maybe too much. The USAF doesn’t like that.” The pain in his voice was clear and Rodney made a conscious effort to remain still, to not do anything to interrupt.

When John didn’t shut him down, Rodney wondered if it was because they couldn’t see each other. If it was because they were in a pitch black room, just the two of them, that made it easier for him to talk because he was clearly still haunted by what had happened. And all Rodney wanted to do was pull John into his arms and make the pain go away.

“You know that photo on my desk? The one of me, Evan, and two other guys?”

Rodney nodded, realized John couldn’t see it, and said, “Yeah. That’s—that’s when you were overseas?”

“Yeah. My . . . third tour, I think? Afghanistan. The other two guys . . . Mitch. And Holland.” John’s voice was taut with emotion and Rodney got the feeling that John had never talked about this before. At least, not with anyone other than whoever was there. “We were typically at the same base at the same time, grew pretty close. Evan was a pilot, Mitch and Holland were spec ops. We were a pretty good team. The, um, the last time I got behind a cockpit, though, I—I royally fucked up.”

Rodney’s gut twisted. There was only one way this was going to end. 

“They were out on a mission, got stuck behind enemy lines. They radioed, requesting evac, and I—I was walking by the command tent when the call came in. The brass on base wrote them off as MIA, soon to be KIA. I tried to change his mind but he said it was too volatile, too dangerous, to send in a helo. I disagreed and went after them.” Disdain mixed with the pain and regret and guilt in his voice.

Rodney didn’t dare move, afraid that any sound would make John stop talking.

John was silent for a moment before continuing, “The one thing anyone in the military can count on is that someone will have your back. That’s what they teach you in basic and it’s the one thing you can count on. We don’t leave our people with the enemy. So I went after them. And I found them, air-lifted them out, and headed back to base. I thought we were free and clear. An RPG got us five miles from base. They were killed in the crash.” Rodney sucked in a sharp breath despite himself. “Brass was not happy. My friends were sent home in caskets and I spent a week in hospital, then got stuck with weeks in mandated therapy. The military shrink I had to see claimed she was on my side and was only trying to help me. Then she turned around and said I was too _damaged_ to keep flying, that I was a danger to myself and others.”

“Dishonorable discharge?” Rodney ventured to ask.

“Medical. I still get my pension and benefits but they took my wings. And a lot of other things I can’t get back.”

“Oh John,” Rodney murmured. He couldn’t imagine the guilt John must still be carrying around, thinking he was responsible for his friends’ deaths. “I’m so sorry. That . . . that sounds horrible.”

John laughed bitterly. “Yeah.” There was a sound like he was dragging his hands through his hair. “I’d lost everything that mattered to me and I think I was still in shock, hadn’t really dealt with things, and I’m not too proud to admit I was struggling when I was shipped Stateside. Finding the photo of this place felt like a message, then finding out I owned it? It was a place to land and I—I figured I’d come and try to put my life back together . . . . and wound up doing the opposite.”

Rodney’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

John fell silent again. Had he decided that that was as much as he was willing to share? “It means . . . .” He blew out his breath. “It means, had Evan not shown up when he did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Unless it was through a medium.”

Rodney blinked rapidly. Then it sunk in and he sat up. Wha—! John had nearly _died_?! Was that—wait, was he saying he’d nearly committed suicide? Rodney’s mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to find words. He dropped back down onto his pillow when he couldn’t. The thought that he’d almost not known John Sheppard was so overwhelming, Rodney was actually speechless. 

“Rodney? You still awake?” John asked after several minutes had passed.

Rodney swallowed, wet his lips. “Y—yeah. Yeah, I’m . . . I’m still awake. Just processing.”

“Okay.”

Wow. Okay, now Rodney _really_ wanted to pull John close and never let him go. He’d never had the urge to comfort someone in that way—in any way, really—but Rodney had accepted the fact that John was different. But if John was still feeling guilty, was he still . . . ? “So you’re, um, you’re okay now, right?” Because he really couldn’t bear the thought that John might . . . that he . . . Rodney couldn’t even finish the thought about not bearing the thought.

He could hear the hint of a smile in John’s voice when he replied softly, “Yeah, Rodney. I’m okay. And—and things are better. Since you got here. I, uh . . . I haven’t had nightmares since . . . well, since you barged into my house.”

Rodney smiled up at the ceiling, feeling warmer from that knowledge than he was under the covers. “Good. That’s—that’s good.”

The silence stretched between them again. Rodney tried going back to sleep but he couldn’t help but think about John. Alone on the cold, hard floor. And he just—he couldn’t. Not with what he now knew.

“Oh, this is just ridiculous,” Rodney suddenly burst out into the quiet. He could hear John start—oops, had he been asleep?—and sat up to scoot down the bed. Peering over the edge, Rodney saw John lying on his back, staring up at him with one arm tucked under his head. John raised an eyebrow at him in silent question. Rodney gripped the wooden footboard and said, “Look, this is stupid. It’s freezing, the floor’s probably hard and retaining cold . . . just get up here already.”

John’s other eyebrow went up. “You want me to—”

Rodney felt himself flush a little, grateful the darkness hid it. “Yes. The bed is big enough for two and there’s no need for you to freeze down there when there’s a flannel sheet up here.”

“ . . . you sure?” 

Rodney snorted. “Would I offer if I wasn’t sure? Get your skinny ass up here.” He pulled back, face hot, and dragged the covers back up with him. He determinedly rolled onto his side, facing away from the other half of the bed, and waited.

Moments later, he heard John get up and toss the pillow on the bed. The mattress dipped as John slid in. His bare feet brushed Rodney’s and Rodney recoiled. “Jesus Christ, your feet are freezing! Why didn’t you keep your socks on?”

“You didn’t.”

“Well, I’m in the nice warm bed. Unlike you, who decided to be a martyr and sleep on the floor! That went well, didn’t it?” Rodney retorted, twisting so he could glare over his shoulder.

John shrugged. “I’d have been fine, you know.”

“Oh for the—go to sleep, Sheppard.” And Rodney rolled back onto his side. John moved around for another minute before settling.

If Rodney’s mind hadn’t been able to shut off before, it was working doubly hard now. He was in bed with John Sheppard. Who had apparently also removed his jeans which meant John was in a shirt and boxers, much like Rodney was. It was taking everything he had to stay still. And speaking of hard . . . Rodney grimaced and tried to ignore the erection pressing against the front of his boxers. Think non-sexy thoughts.

John shifted position next to him. Rodney thought he could feel the warmth of John’s body against his back and bit his lower lip, hard. He fisted his hand in the sheet to keep from touching himself. _Keep it together_. He could control himself.

Then John’s hand came up to rest on his shoulder. Rodney started, then went still again. John’s hand slid slowly down Rodney’s arm until it reached the bend of his elbow. Rodney was sure he was going to break something from remaining still. John’s hand skimmed along Rodney’s side before coming to a rest on his hip. “John?” he breathed. It was a sentence, a question, and a fervent desire that this wasn’t a dream that he would wake up from in disappointment all rolled into his name.

John applied a little pressure and Rodney rolled over onto his back. John lay on his side, looking down at Rodney, his hand now resting on Rodney’s stomach. Gaze hot on his, John slowly slid it lower, until his fingers brushed the waistband of Rodney’s boxers. Rodney sucked in a breath. John raised an eyebrow in a silent question. 

Swallowing hard, Rodney asked, “Are you sure?”

For answer, John leaned down to kiss him, reaching into his boxers to grip him at the same time. Rodney’s mouth opened with a gasp as he arched into the touch. John smiled against his mouth and murmured, “I’m sure,” before sliding on top of him. _Oh hell yes._

Rodney wrapped his arms around John’s back, and kissed him. John slid a thigh between Rodney’s legs, the friction and feel of John’s hard body on top of his bringing him to full hardness in a nanosecond. Lust slammed through him and he tugged at the hem of John’s shirt, ordering, “Off.”

John chuckled but pulled away to grip the collar and yank his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. “You, too,” he said, slipping his hands up under Rodney’s shirt, hands hot on Rodney’s skin, kissing along his jaw.

Rodney bit his lip, hesitant.

Pulling back, John frowned down at him. “What is it?”

“I’m just—it’s—” Rodney sighed, turned his head. “I’m not much to look at. Not like you.”

“Hey.” John gripped his chin, turned him back to face him. John bent down and kissed him. “You are most definitely something to look at. In fact, I haven’t been able to stop looking since we met.” He rolled his hips, his erection brushing against Rodney’s, sending electricity through him. 

Rodney allowed John to help him out of his shirt, missing it even as it landed on the floor with John’s. John studied him and Rodney squirmed a little, unable to not compare his softness to John’s hard physique. Then John bent down and kissed him. “You,” he said between kisses, “are fucking hot.”

“Really?” he asked, voice small.

“Really.” John touched him, running his hands oh so slowly up Rodney’s stomach, skimming over his ribs. His thumbs brushed against Rodney’s nipples, sending pleasure zinging through his body. “And I want you,” John said, before leaning down to brush a kiss over each nipple. “All of you.”

His hands pulled away only to return and pull Rodney’s boxers off. John got off him to remove his own boxers and a chill crept in, banished the moment John returned. They were fully naked now and Rodney finally let his hands wander, leaning up to kiss John. John arched his back as Rodney’s fingers skimmed down his back to cup his ass. Okay, so maybe John meant it. “You have me,” Rodney replied and reached in between them to grip John’s cock in one hand. He gave it a long, firm stroke, flicking his thumb over the head.

John groaned, his head dropping to Rodney’s shoulder. “Oh fuck yeah.”

Rodney shifted, trying to get some friction against his own dick even as he continued to stroke John’s. Despite rocking into Rodney’s grip, John managed to get a hand in between them and wrapped his fingers around Rodney. Rodney arched into his hand, caught John’s mouth with his own. Their bodies moved together, hands moving faster as orgasm grew closer. Heat pooled in Rodney’s groin, spreading, spreading, until pleasure spiked and Rodney gasped into John’s mouth as he came, spilling over John’s hand. He somehow managed another couple of strokes to make John come after him.

“That was . . .” Rodney started then stopped because he had no words for how incredible that had been.

John chuckled and rolled off him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh it is most definitely a compliment.” Rodney really wished there was power so he could turn a light on and see John’s face. Sex in the dark was hot and all but he was insecure enough to still wonder afterwards if it was as good for the other person as it was for him. “And—and you? Was it--?”

John leaned over and kissed him. “It was good for me, too, Rodney. Great, even.” Another kiss then he rolled away and Rodney felt a rush of cold air as John got out of bed. He got back in and cleaned up first Rodney, then himself, then settled back down. He reached over to tug Rodney against him, draping an arm around his waist.

Rodney placed his hand over John’s, lacing their fingers together. John pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. Rodney smiled to himself. He’d known they’d be good together after that kiss. It was good to know he was right, again. Genius, duh.

“Hey, Rodney,” John asked quietly after a minute, “you ever think of moving out of Toronto?”

“Out as in . . . move out to live in a suburb?”

“No,” John said with a laugh. He shifted, pulling away to lay on his back, and Rodney got the feeling that this was hard for him to say so he flipped to his other side to wait in silence. Finally John said, “I was thinking more of a ranch on the outskirts of a little town in Wyoming.”

_Oh_. Rodney’s breath caught in his chest. John was . . . oh wow. He bemoaned the lack of light again because it was hard enough to figure out what John was thinking when he could see him. Now? Now he had to go by tone of voice and—and body language which was also difficult. John was staring at the ceiling. Rodney reached over to grip John’s chin, turn John’s head to face him. Damn this power outage. He really wanted to be able to clearly see John’s expression. Rodney said softly, “I never thought that I would like it out of the city.”

A muscle ticked in John’s jaw, flexing under Rodney’s fingers. “But?”

“But . . .” Rodney leaned in to press a light kiss to his mouth. “I like it here. So, yeah. Yeah, I’d think about moving out of Toronto. I do still have a contract with the university so any more permanent sorts of plans would have to wait a few months.”

“Permanent plans, hmm?”

“Yeah. You, uh, you have any ideas for that?”

John grinned, a flash of white in the darkness. “I might.”

* * *

John drew in a long breath and opened his eyes. Sunlight peeked in through the curtains, sending little shafts of light across the bed. Normally, he’d get up and get ready for a day of work but this morning he felt languid. It wasn’t a feeling he had often so he enjoyed it now, wanting to just lie here in bed a few more moments. John closed his eyes to better enjoy the feeling.

A snore startled him and he had a flash of panic, trying to remember who he was sharing a bed with. Then he remembered—the blizzard, chess, Rodney. He was sharing a bed at Halling’s inn with Rodney. His face heated as he remembered they’d had sex last night. Amazing, sexy, hot as fuck sex. John carefully rolled over, not wanting to wake Rodney just yet. He tucked a hand under the pillow and bit back a snort of laughter.

Rodney was flat on his stomach, head turned to the side with his mouth open, and had both hands shoved under his pillow. The covers had dipped down enough that John could see those broad shoulders and a hint of that pale skin that so entranced him. He’d loved seeing Rodney’s vulnerable side last night and he hadn’t been lying. John couldn’t stop looking. Rodney drew his attention no matter where they were.

Rodney made another little snoring sound and John smiled a little. He reached out a hand and, with the faintest of touches, started tracing symbols along Rodney’s shoulders. Rodney was dead to the world until John reached about mid-back then Rodney’s body jerked. John kept going, marveling at how slowly it took Rodney to wake. His mouth closed, his eyes scrunched tight, then he withdrew a hand to rub his face and then he opened his eyes.

Stilling his fingers, John let his hand lie flat along Rodney’s back. “Morning,” he said softly.

Rodney’s eyes held a remainder of sleep that John found endearing. It turned out Rodney’s blue eyes had multiple shades and he was only just starting to learn them. Rodney blinked a couple times then mumbled something that not even John could understand.

John rubbed a circle onto his back and asked, amused, “You wanna give that another shot?”

Rodney lifted up onto his elbows, then, with a grunt, flipped onto his side. John withdrew his hand, letting it lay in the space between them. “I said,” Rodney said, voice scratchy with sleep, “is the heat back on yet?”

John laughed. Of course that was the first thing he said. “I don’t know. Probably.”

Rodney rubbed his face then stopped, lowering his hand slowly. “So . . . last night. That happened.”

John felt his walls go up. “It did,” he replied, wary.

Rodney seemed to notice because his eyes opened wide. He grabbed John’s hand, squeezing it tight as he quickly said, “Oh! No! No no no no, that’s—that’s not what I—I mean, I mean to say . . . oh bugger!” Rodney stopped talking only to lean forward and kiss John, morning breath be damned, apparently.

But it did the trick, reassuring John that he’d made the right decision. That Rodney wasn’t interested in just a one-night stand. It added a sense of urgency to what he needed to do before they headed back, so when Rodney’s hands started to wander south, John reluctantly pulled back. “As much as I’d love to stay in bed all day,” he said, leaning in to kiss Rodney’s nose, “we should get going. I’m sure there’s damage from the storm, both here in town and back at the ranch, that’ll need to be taken care of.”

Rodney gave an exaggerated huff of breath and flopped onto his back. “Ugh, don’t I get to enjoy the afterglow?”

John laughed again and sat up. “You had all night to enjoy the afterglow, McKay.” He glanced over, found Rodney staring. He cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“What, I’m not allowed to enjoy the view now?” John flushed and Rodney grinned. Before John realized it, Rodney had reached up, grabbed his arm and tugged him back down. Rodney climbed on top of him and John let out a groan as their dicks rubbed together.

“Rodney,” he tried as Rodney rocked his hips then bent down to kiss first one nipple then the other. They really shouldn’t. “We—we shouldn’t—oh god _yes_.”

Barely lifting his mouth from John’s skin, Rodney said slyly, “We don’t have to stay in bed all day, just a little longer. Lorne can handle things without you for a couple more hours, right?” He kissed John then started sliding down his chest, leaving kisses in his wake that sent shivers of pleasure through John.

John gripped the sheets tight, practically writhing beneath him. Then he uttered a sharp curse as Rodney took his dick in his mouth. Oh holy hell that was good. The heat and suction of Rodney’s mouth on his cock was unbelievably hot. Rodney pulled back, flicked his tongue over the head, then sucked him down deep again. John lifted his head so he could see and Rodney’s eyes lifted to his at that moment. Green met blue and John was coming with a strangled cry. Rodney crawled up his body to kiss him and John could taste him on Rodney’s mouth and that was hot, too.

“Holy fuck, Rodney,” he breathed.

“Yes, well,” Rodney said, looking pleased.

John wrapped a leg around Rodney’s and rolled them over so he was on top.

Rodney warned, “I’m not gonna last long.”

“Sure you can.” John wiggled backwards until he had enough space, then he made a show of licking his lips. Rodney made a soft sound as John took him in his mouth slowly, inch by inch. He wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed, delaying Rodney’s orgasm until he had Rodney begging for it. Then he sucked Rodney deep while sliding a finger underneath him to brush against his hole.

Rodney came, hips bucking, and John swallowed, memorizing the taste of him. He crawled back up to collapse next to Rodney, head on the pillow, fingers tracing symbols on the skin of his chest again. This had been . . . God, John couldn’t even remember feeling so—so _good_.

After a minute, Rodney asked, “Is there a reason you’re drawing flight equations on my chest?”

John blinked, hand pausing, and he tilted his head to look at Rodney. “What?” He looked at his hand. “Huh. I hadn’t even realized.”

Rodney took hold of his hand, brought it up to his mouth and kissed John’s knuckles. “I’m enjoying the afterglow while I’m conscious this time,” he informed John.

John kissed him and threw a leg over Rodney’s before reaching up to pull the covers back up from where they’d fallen near the foot of the bed. Real life could wait just a little bit longer, he supposed.


	8. Chapter Eight

Rodney leaned against the side of the truck and flexed his gloved fingers then rolled his neck. Something scraped slowly against the metal and he turned just in time to see the shovel clatter to the recently cleared sidewalk. He stared down at it wearily.

A hand landed on his shoulder. John said, “I got it.” He moved past Rodney and bent over to pick it up, incidentally giving Rodney a great view of how his ass looked in those jeans. Rodney felt his mouth water a little as he remembered what it looked like _without_ those jeans.

John turned around and blinked when he caught Rodney ogling him. Then he smiled, a little shyly, Rodney thought. “Let me just put this away and then we’re done here, ‘kay?”

Rodney nodded and sagged back against the truck as John jogged off. Shoving his hands in his coat pockets, he let his head tip back and closed his eyes. It had been a busy morning. You know, once they’d decided to get out of bed. Surprisingly hard, that. And then Rodney refused to go anywhere until he’d had coffee so he and John had dressed and gone downstairs where Halling had put out a breakfast buffet. John had reached for a plate and started piling pancakes on it whereas Rodney had made a beeline for the coffeepot on the refreshments table. He drank half of it in one go, felt moderately better, drained it and refilled before turning to the buffet. 

It was a little weird, leaving the little bubble of that room. He felt like something big had happened. Yes, sex had happened, but more importantly, John had shared something incredibly personal with him. Rodney was still a little stunned at what he’d learned and vowed never to make John regret sharing that with him.

Piling his own plate with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, Rodney had joined John at a table. He’d assumed that they would hit the road after they were done eating, since John had been so concerned about there being damage from the blizzard but that didn’t happen. Halling had asked for John’s assistance with something and that had led to something else, then Rodney got roped in and somehow he was shoveling sidewalks for half the town!

A shadow fell across his face and Rodney opened his eyes to find John had returned. “Are we done?” Rodney asked, practically begging him to say yes. He didn’t think he could lift his arms anymore.

John nodded, but there was something off about his expression.

Rodney frowned. “What? Someone else need you to help with something apparently only you can do?”

“I’m a part of this community, Rodney,” John gently reminded him. “We all help each other. I have no doubt that if I needed any one of them to come to the ranch to help me with something, they’d all volunteer in a heartbeat.”

“Then what?”

John shifted his feet. “There’s, uh, there’s something I need to do before we get going.”

Rodney blinked then sighed, reaching for the door handle. “Alright. Just, please tell me it won’t involve more physical labor?”

John’s hand closed around his wrist. Rodney turned to frown at him. There was definitely something John wasn’t telling him. “This is personal. Rodney. Um, you can—can wait at Halling’s or the diner. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Uncomfortable. _That_ was the expression on John’s face, and in his body language. John was _uncomfortable_ , which begged the question of why. “O—kaaay . . . ” he said slowly and let go of the door handle. John dropped his wrist like a hot rock. “At the risk of being drafted for more work, I think I’ll go to the diner. It’s just up the block, right?”

John nodded, hands back in his pockets. “Yeah, that’s—that’s fine. Um. I’ll see you in a bit. An hour, tops.”

“Okay,” Rodney said again, stepping up onto the sidewalk as John walked around and climbed in. John drove off without another glance and Rodney was left to go over that whole interaction in his head, trying to decipher what John had to be uncomfortable about. He mulled it over the entire walk to the Royal Blue Diner. It most likely wasn’t the only diner in town, but it was the only one Rodney knew.

It wasn’t until he was seated at the counter, nursing his third—or was it fourth?—cup of coffee that something else John had said clicked something on in his brain. Rodney took a slow sip—they really did make good coffee in this town. John had said that everyone helps everyone; that if he ever needed their help with the ranch, they’d be there for him. But did that only apply to hard labor? Weren’t there other ways they could help him? An idea was tickling the back of his mind.

The waitress walked by and Rodney asked, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I remember you. Last time you were here with Sheppard, so I gave you a pass, but if you’re an ass again, I’m throwing you out.”

Rodney lifted his hands in surrender. If he wanted accurate information, he’d have to play nice, as much as he hated it. Making a point of looking at the nametag, he said, “I just want to ask a couple questions . . . Dahlia. That’s it. And maybe get some more of this amazing coffee?”

Dahlia frowned suspiciously but reached behind her for the pot, pouring the dark liquid nirvana into Rodney’s cup. “What kind of questions?”

“About Sheppard.” He drank as she put the pot back on the burner. “So, he’s been here awhile, yeah? What’s your take on him?”

“Yeah. Arrived a few years ago.” Dahlia shrugged. “Nice guy, kind of quiet. Handsome, polite, charming, funny. Always willing to lend a hand with some of the rougher customers or lifting heavy things, or well, anything really. Half the town probably owes him something. I think he’s even tutored more than a few of the locals’ kids in math. Why?”

Rodney filed the information away—Sheppard tutored in math, hmm? Well, at least he wasn’t completely wasting his degree. “Does he ever ask for anything in return?”

Dahlia opened her mouth, paused, closed it. She tilted her head then slowly shook her head. “You know, now that I think about it, he hasn’t. I’ve offered to pay him for his help, and I know Jenny—John’s tutored her daughter a few times—tried to pay him for the tutoring but he refuses it. Says he just wants to help and doesn’t need to be paid. Of course, if he’s paid with free meals, then he takes it but I think he’s just being polite,” she added in a lower, conspiratorial voice.

Hmm. That idea was starting to look better and better. He glanced around the diner then leaned on the counter. “Dahlia, do you know which bank John uses?”

She jerked back in surprise. “What? Why’d you want to know that?”

He hissed, “Not so loud!” and gestured for her to come closer. He really didn’t want this getting back to John and the less people heard, the better. Dahlia scowled but leaned back in. “He’s having some trouble with his finances and I’d like to help him. I’ve tried to pay him for letting me stay with him, but he refused, just like you said he does. I thought, maybe if I could just deposit the money into his bank account . . .” he trailed off, letting her intuit his idea.

Dahlia drew back, looking pensive. She tapped a finger against her lips for a few seconds while Rodney drank some more coffee. “You know,” she finally said, “you might not be as bad as I originally thought, if you’re willing to risk Sheppard’s anger.”

“He can be as pissed at me as he wants,” Rodney said honestly, though he sincerely hoped it wasn’t too mad, “so long as he gets to keep his home. So . . . does that mean you’ll tell me?”

She studied him then nodded with finality. “First National. It’s the biggest in town; most everyone uses it. Go up three blocks, left two, and you’ll find it on the right. And good luck once he finds out what you’ve done.”

Rodney drained his coffee and pulled out a couple bills to cover both his check and a good tip. She’d been a big help. Then he slid off the stool and pulled his coat on. “I appreciate it. And don’t tell John?”

“He won’t hear it from me,” were her parting words as she scooped up his money and used mug.

Rodney stepped outside and checked his watch. Damn, he didn’t have long, if John’s estimation of an hour were to be believed. He followed Dahlia’s directions and soon found himself in the bland gray yet attempting to be ostentatious bank lobby. There was hardly anyone in here, excellent. Rodney stepped up to the first teller and said, “I need to make a deposit to someone who holds an account here. Can you do that?”

The young woman behind the counter smiled at him. “Sure. Do you have an account here?”

“No. Is that a problem?”

“I don’t think so. Do you have the account number for the person whose account you are transferring into?” she asked, fingers poised over her keyboard.

Rodney shook his head. “No, but if I give you a name, can you do it that way?”

She nodded. “Should be fine. What’s the name?”

“John Sheppard.”

Her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Okay, and do you have the routing and account numbers for your bank and account?”

Rodney rattled them off and the keys clattered. Once that was done, she asked how much he wanted to transfer in and he paused to do a little math. He’d start with paying for the week he’d spent at John’s—if a typical hotel nightly fare was in the $200-$300 range, then multiply that by seven, plus a little extra . . . The keyboard clacked away.

“Okay,” the teller said brightly, sliding a receipt across for him to sign, “so it’s going to take a couple days since your bank is out of the country, but the transfer should go through with no problems. Anything else I can do for you?”

Rodney paused in the act of signing. It was crazy to even _think_ about this but . . . “Can you tell me if he owes anything to the bank? Loans or mortgages or anything?”

She bit her lip. “Um, I’m not sure I’m allowed, not without his permission.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes and signed with a flourish. Sending it back, he said, “Say nothing if he does.”

She took the receipt and filed it without a word. 

Fuck. Rodney blew out his breath. “Is it a lot?”

She smiled at him. Silently.

Rodney gritted his teeth and mentally reviewed his finances. Debated with himself for a few long seconds. Oh what the hell. Why not? “Can I pay them off? Or—or transfer more money in and then you can use that to pay them off?” Rodney really didn’t want John to have to lose that beautiful ranch, not after he’d already lost so much.

The teller’s polite smile softened. “I’ll make it work.”

“Thank you.” He checked his watch—he had to be sure to be back at the diner before John came looking for him. “Um, do you need me for that? Because I really have somewhere to be, like, now.”

She paused then said, “Well, I will need a signature to approve the transfer and payments.”

“Email it,” and he gave her his email address. He’d check it when they got home—electronic signatures were just as good as physical ones. Thankfully, once she had that, he didn’t need to be there anymore. Good. Rodney hurried out of the bank and back to the diner, slipping a little on the snowy parts of the sidewalks he hadn’t been forced to clear.

Now to figure out how to tell John what he’d done.

* * *

John stood in the driveway and mentally prepared himself for the conversation he needed to have. It should have happened before this but so much had been going on and it was just comfortable to keep going. But then Rodney happened and that talk with Evan. And then last night . . . John needed to just suck it up and do it.

With that thought firmly in mind, John took a deep, bracing breath and strode into the garage. “Todd?” he called, bypassing the front desk to head back into the work area. “Hey, Todd, you in? It’s John!”

Something clattered, startling him into spinning around. Todd exited the office, pulling the door behind him. “John, what are you doing here? I figured you’d be busy dealing with the effects of the blizzard on the farm.”

“Ranch, and yeah, I’m headed there soon. Got stuck in town overnight.” John crossed his arms. “I swung by your house but you weren’t home. So I tried calling you but you didn’t answer. Everything okay?”

Todd wiped his hands on a rag, then slid them in his coverall pockets. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I lost power, didn’t even know you’d called. What’s up? The car’s ready, if you’re here to pick it up. Finished it up last night.” He lifted one shoulder. “Didn’t have much else to do in that weather.”

“That’s—that’s great. I’ll, uh, I’ll let Rodney know.” And now Rodney had a way to leave, if he wanted to. John didn’t want him to. Goddammit this was all happening too fast! John resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. “Listen, we—we need to talk.”

Todd’s eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Yeah, um.” John nodded towards the office door that was starting to slide open. He’d rather not do this where anyone can walk in the front door and hear. “Can we talk in private?”

Todd looked over his shoulder then reached out to pull the door shut. “It’s just us. Let’s talk out here.”

Weird. Did Todd not want him to see something in his office? John shook that from his head, focusing on what he needed to do. “Okay. Uh. Look, I, uh, I don’t know if you’ve, um, you’ve noticed but things between us aren’t all that great. Lately.”

Todd frowned. “Well, it’d be better if you were here more often. You’re so far out, how are we supposed to have a date night if I have to wait for you to have a reason to come to town? Other than me, because we both know that’s not a priority.”

“Oh come on,” John protested, “that’s not fair.”

“Is it?” Todd returned. “Come on, John, you’re deliberately unreachable, especially lately.”

“Deliberately unreachable?” John repeated, surprised. “You know where I live! You’ve always known that! You’re the one who never comes to me. Why does it always have to be coming to you?”

Todd snapped, “Maybe I’m not just talking about where you live! You haven’t told me a damn thing about what you did before you came to Aurora Falls, John! How am I supposed to open myself up to someone who won’t open themselves up in return?”

John started to argue back then stopped himself. Talking about his past was hard but Todd had never expressed any interest or disappointment or anything about the fact that John hadn’t shared. Not that Todd had been interested in anything more than a physical relationship, not really. John bit the inside of his cheek and firmly reminded himself that he hadn’t come here to start a fight. He dragged a hand over his face and deliberately forced himself to take a slow breath. “Look,” he said, calm again. “I didn’t come here to fight with you or—or assign blame.”

“Then why are you here?” Todd scowled at him.

“I’m here because this isn’t working anymore. Maybe it never was. And maybe that’s partially on me because I was too comfortable to acknowledge that or was unwilling to actually pull the plug. But I am now.”

The office door swung open a few inches and stopped. Maybe he should check the latch on that, John thought. Todd’s scowl had turned into a full-on glower and he demanded, “Are you breaking up with me? After everything?”

What? John blinked. Todd had gone from blaming John for their relationship not working, to trying to guilt him into saving it? “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m—I’m breaking up with you.”

Todd hadn’t noticed the door opening, his angry gaze fixed on John. “You’re serious.”

“I am. It’s time.”

“You sonofabitch.”

John actually took a step back at the sudden vehemence in Todd’s voice. It seemed a little much for a breakup.

Todd shook his head angrily. “You _fucking_ sonofabitch! I had this all planned and then you go and do this. You’ve no idea what you’ve done.”

“What are you talking about?” John asked, confused.

The door to Todd’s office opened the rest of the way and John’s confusion grew. Then it shot straight to anger and he demanded, “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

Cowan came up to stand next to Todd with a smirk for John. “Business, Sheppard. Just business.”

John’s gaze flicked between them. “You—you’re working together? Todd, what the hell? You know he wants my land!”

Todd replied, “Oh I know. I’ve been working this deal for days and then you come in here and you end things like you’ve no idea what we could do together!”

“What are you talking about?”

Cowan interjected, “If I may?” Before either of them could respond, Cowan continued, “Mr. Beacon, here, approached me sometime last week when he heard about my plans to gentrify the city. I explained how essential your acreage is to my plans and he offered to help me get it. With one condition. If he convinced you to sell, then I would make him general manager once the plant was built. Since I’d had no luck with you thus far, I thought that someone you knew might make a better case.” Cowan frowned at Todd. “Clearly I was wrong.”

Betrayal slammed into John so fast, he took another step back. He stared at Todd, hoping he would say something to refute what Cowan had said. But he didn’t. “So—so that’s why you came to visit,” John said through numb lips. “You weren’t looking out for me. You were looking out for yourself! God, I was so stupid to believe . . .” John shook his head, feeling like a complete idiot for not seeing it coming. For not recognizing the threat in his own backyard.

Todd replied, “I don’t understand why you won’t just sell the place. It’s just a house and a few cows.”

“It’s my _mom’s_ ,” John said, staring at Todd like he didn’t know him. Maybe he never really did. Had he ever truly recovered, then, from his life folding in on itself? Was Evan the only one he could trust?

Was Rodney lying to him, too?

That thought sent ice trickling down his spine and for one horrible moment, John wondered if he was. The next second, he dismissed it. Rodney was a lot of things, but he hadn’t lied to John. He’d been up front about his feelings since the moment they’d met. No, Rodney wouldn’t lie to him about something important like this.

He needed to get out of here. But first, he needed to deal with this. Summoning that icy exterior that had served him so well during his service, John felt his expression harden, his stance widen. He leveled that hard gaze first on Todd and held out his hand, palm out. “I want the keys to Rodney’s car. Now. And then you and I are never going to see each other again, unless I’m in desperate need of a mechanic.”

Todd glowered but stepped into the office, returning a moment later to slap a set of keys into John’s hand hard enough to hurt. John ignored it, wrapped his fingers around the key ring and slid it into a pocket. Then he turned to Cowan and icy threat filled his voice. “For the final time, I refuse to sell my home to a developer and if I see you again . . .” his voice dipped into a lower register and he had the satisfaction of seeing Cowan flinch near imperceptibly, “you _will_ regret it.”

John turned and strode out of the garage, got in his truck, and pulled out. He stopped once he was around the block and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He lowered his hands to the steering wheel and let his head fall back against the headrest. John took several slow, deep breaths, trying to purge the betrayal, anger, hurt from him before he went to meet Rodney.

Rodney. God, last night felt a million miles away right now. What he wouldn’t give to be back in that bed with him. He’d told Rodney about the worst moments of his life and Rodney’s only response had been to say he was sorry John had had to go through that. And that . . . that had meant _everything_. Up til then, only Evan had known but he knew the others suspected but they babied him. Acted like he needed protecting. And, yeah, at one point he’d needed that but he didn’t now.

Rodney still wanted him even after John had told him.

It took a few more minutes of deep breathing before John felt calm enough to get back on the road. Even so, he knew he’d be thinking about this for a while. The Royal’s parking lot was only half-full so John claimed a spot along the back wall before heading in.

He stopped just inside and stomped the snow off his boots, scanning the tables for Rodney as he did. Rodney was at the counter so John walked over and slid into the empty chair on Rodney’s right, lifting a hand to catch Dahlia’s eye as he did. She waved back and he lifted an eyebrow. Rodney didn’t seem to have noticed his arrival and as John leaned on the counter, he saw why.

One hand held a folded newspaper flat, Rodney chewed on the end of a pen then, as John watched, he scribbled something on the newspaper. John stretched his neck to see . . . ah, the daily crossword.

Dahlia flew by, set a to-go cup in front of John, topped up Rodney’s cup with a pot, then left. Rodney reached for his cup with the hand holding the pen and drank, apparently oblivious to John’s presence. Amused, John sipped his drink and waited until Rodney put the cup down before speaking, in case there was spillage. And not the fun kind. “Hey, McKay. You ready to go?”

Rodney started violently and John had to reach out to grab him before he fell off the chair. Rodney settled then clutched his chest and glared at John. “Do you enjoy giving me heart attacks?”

John rolled his eyes. “Dramatic much? Come on, let’s go.”

Rodney studied him. “What happened?”

John paused. “What do you mean?”

Rodney gestured in his direction and John leaned back a little to avoid getting poked by the pen Rodney apparently forgot he was holding. “You—you look upset. What was that errand you had to run?”

John was momentarily thrown. Rodney could see that? He’d tried to wipe it from his expression but maybe something had slipped through the mask. He tried a shrug, sure that his typical defense would work. “Nothing. I’m fine. Look, we should get going. Do you want to take that to go?”

“Yes, I do, but you’re avoiding the question.”

“Yup,” John agreed, getting to his feet. 

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like answering it right now.” _Or ever_ , he silently added.

Rodney’s concerned frown turned into a frown of irritation and wow, John could really tell the difference. Huh. He shifted awkwardly on the seat. “I know I’m probably not your first choice—and, frankly, I’m no good with emotions and shit anyway—but, uh, I—I could listen? If you need to, you know, talk.”

John felt such a wave of love towards Rodney in that moment, it stole his breath. “Thanks, Rodney,” John said, meaning it, “but I’m good.” He flagged Dahlia down to get a to-go cup for Rodney, and grabbed his own. “You ready?”

Rodney hurried to put his coat on, shoved the crossword puzzle in a pocket, then slid off the chair and grabbed his cup. “Ready.”

John led the way to the pickup but Rodney followed him around to the driver’s side. John raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s up?”

Rodney reached over John’s head to set his cup on the roof then leaned in and kissed him. Tension John hadn’t realized had still been there after the conversation with Todd flooded out of him at the feel of Rodney against him. Mindful of his own cup, John wrapped his arms around Rodney’s back and tipped his head to the side, their mouths matching up perfectly. Just as it would have gotten heated, Rodney broke it off.

“I wanted to do that inside but you looked upset and I didn’t know if you wanted to do anything in public . . .”

John kissed him, surprised and touched that Rodney had thought it through that much. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rodney smiled softly at him then pulled out of his arms, reaching up to rescue his cup. “Much as I’d love to continue this, I don’t need you distracted while driving.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t have kissed me at all,” John replied, looking slowly down Rodney’s body. “Because now I am definitely distracted.”

Rodney flushed then leaned in for a quick hard kiss. He murmured against John’s lips, “Hold that thought,” and then John was watching Rodney round the back of the pickup.

John pressed a hand to his mouth then grinned. Oh yeah, this was definitely to be continued.


	9. Chapter Nine

If there was a better way to spend an afternoon, Rodney hadn’t found it yet. It felt like their fledgling relationship had been on fast forward since they’d slept together and Rodney couldn’t be happier. He thought John seemed happier, too, especially in moments like this. Moments where it was just the two of them and the vastness of his land. They’d been going on rides, John showing Rodney more about how the ranch worked, his favorite spots. 

PJ and Atlantis were tied to a tree somewhere back there, Rodney couldn’t quite remember exactly where. He’d been too focused on John. On John’s hand in his as he led Rodney up a path to a spot that gave them an incredible view of the mountains. On John’s eyes, sparkling with wonder as he shared this with Rodney. Rodney had been so caught up in the view—of both John and the mountains—that he hadn’t really noticed that John had moved away.

Until something hit him in the back and he started. _What the—?_

Some sort of muffled sound drew his attention. Turning, Rodney saw John with a hand over his face, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. Rodney blinked, looked down. Yup. John’s other glove was sprinkled with snow. “Did you just—did you just throw a snowball at me?”

Eyes dancing, John nodded. He finally lowered his hand and said, laughingly, “You should have seen your face!”

Rodney looked around, then simply stooped, gathered a handful of snow and flung it in John’s direction. It fell apart, ending up spraying John’s coat with flakes instead of detonating in a burst as a snowball should.

John shook his head, made a _tsk_ sound. “That was pathetic.” John stooped, gathered snow, molding it between his hands. Oh no, oh no . . . Rodney scrambled to get behind a tree but didn’t make it. The snowball impacted upon his arm. 

Rodney swiped snow off his coat sleeve and narrowed his eyes at John. “Oh, it’s on.”

And so they had a mini snowball fight, using trees as cover, Rodney trying to avoid getting hit because John made _solid_ snowballs, laughing the whole time . . . until John snuck up behind him and surprised him. He tripped over his own feet, made a grab for the tree, managed to grab hold of John instead and they both went tumbling into the snow.

John’s face hovered above his. “Hi,” he said softly. He had a leg in between Rodney’s and it was all Rodney could do to not shift, to rub against him. He looped his arms around John’s back instead, clasping one wrist in a loose grip.

“Hi.” Rodney lifted his head and kissed him. 

John smiled into it, sliding a hand between Rodney’s head and the ground, cradling his neck as they kissed. John’s mouth was warm and it was with great difficulty that Rodney broke off the kiss. John raised an eyebrow. “Sorry,” he said, a little breathlessly, “it’s just—the snow. I’m getting wet and cold.”

“Oh.” John slid off of him, got to his feet then held out a hand. Rodney took it, let John pull him to his feet. 

Rodney wiped snow off his pants and coat. John helped, sliding a hand along his butt longer than was appropriate for snow removal. Catching John’s hand, Rodney used it to pull John into him, pressing their mouths together. 

John moved an arm up Rodney’s back, draped over his shoulder and—

“Ah!” Rodney shouted, jumping up and down as John laughed. Rodney shook his coat, trying to remove the snow that John had shoved down the back of his collar. Coldness trickled down his spine and he shivered. Oh damn, that’s cold!

“What are you, five?” Rodney demanded but he couldn’t even be all that mad. Not when John looked so delighted with himself. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the wetness.

“I couldn’t—I’m sorry, I just . . .” he laughed between words. “I couldn’t resist.”

Rodney stalked over to him, John backing up, hands in the air, still laughing. “You’re going to regret that,” Rodney threatened. He reached out, got hold of John’s arm. Somehow they’d lost their gloves and his bare fingers looked so pale against the blue of John’s coat.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” John teased, his arm hanging loosely in Rodney’s grip. Their eyes met and suddenly Rodney wasn’t so cold anymore.

He pushed John against the closest tree, said in a low tone, “You should be,” and kissed him.

Snow from the branches above tickled his face and trickled down his back, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting his hands under the hem of John’s shirt. John’s breath hitched, his mouth pulling away briefly, as Rodney finally succeeded.

“Jesus, your fingers are cold!” John said.

Rodney kissed him. “I’m sure you can warm them up for me.”

John chuckled and reeled him in closer, slipping his tongue back into Rodney’s mouth.

Mmmm, yeah. This was just about perfect. He moved away from John’s mouth to kiss along his jawline, feeling the hint of stubble against his cheeks. John’s breath came in harsh pants, his hands fisting the back of Rodney’s coat. He pressed a kiss behind John’s earlobe, feeling the telltale shiver that let him know this was a sensitive spot. He made a mental note, adding it to the list of things he was learning about John’s body.

“Moooo.”

Rodney pulled back. _What the hell?_ He frowned at John. “Did you just moo?”

John laughed in disbelief. “What? No. I definitely did not moo, Rodney.”

“I swear I just heard you moo.”

“If I said anything,” John replied, “it was _do that again._ ”

Alright, well, maybe it was just a moan? It was possible. Rodney let John pull him in again, sinking into the kiss as John rocked them slowly together. God, that felt good. John’s hands wandered, sliding inside the waistband of his jeans.

“Mooooo . . .”

Rodney jerked back, inadvertently removing John’s hands from him. “Okay, I definitely heard you do it this time.”

John rolled his eyes. “Rodney, I did not—nor have I ever nor _will_ I ever— _moo_. Alright?” John stepped forward, a hand on Rodney’s chest. John grinned and gently pushed Rodney until his back hit a tree. Then John leaned in, pausing millimeters away from his mouth to murmur, “My turn.”

Rodney was grateful to have the tree to lean against as John set about destroying valuable brain cells with his talented, talented mouth.

“Mooooo . . . .”

John pulled away from him. “Okay, I heard that one.”

Rodney blinked several times, feeling like he was surfacing from deep water. “What?”

John was frowning, looking around. “I heard it that time. But why . . .”

“What?” Rodney was still trying to catch up with the fact that John was no longer kissing him. 

“Oh, fuck,” John muttered, and darted off.

“Hey!” Rodney shouted, and hurried after him.

They moved down the path, Rodney trying to run in the snow and falling further and further behind. He had to keep looking down to make sure he wasn’t going to trip and fall and alternated that with looking up to keep John in sight. His thigh muscles ached after a few steps. Damn, that was hell on his legs. If they were going to go somewhere, why didn’t John stop to grab the horses? 

He looked up after another few steps and saw John with a cow, studying its ear. Rodney stomped through the snow up to him, bending over a little to catch his breath. Upon straightening, he found himself staring at the cow’s nose.

“MOOOOoooo . . .” it said.

Rodney blinked and turned to John. “Uh, is—is this—?”

He nodded. “One of mine.” He indicated the orange tag in the cow’s ear. John frowned, looking around. “I don’t understand how she got all the way over here, though. They’re supposed to be at the western pasture today.”

Rodney asked, “So, uh, I’m going to guess we can’t just leave it here.”

“No,” was John’s firm response.

“Right.” Rodney nodded. “Okay. So how are we going to get it back to the others?” As far as he was aware, they didn’t have any way to, uh, leash it.

John rubbed a hand absently over the cow’s back, looking thoughtful. “Can you go get the horses? I don’t want her to wander off if we both go.”

“Horses. Right. I can—I can do that. Yes.” Rodney turned around, resigned himself to trekking through the snow and praying he could locate the horses.

Thankfully it hadn’t snowed in the past few minutes, so Rodney was able to easily retrace his steps back to the clearing where they’d had their snowball fight and make-out session. Then from there, he made his way back to where they’d tied up the horses. He also stopped to pick up their now sodden gloves from the snow and shove them in his pockets. 

John was still there when Rodney arrived, leading the horses behind him. The crunch of snow underfoot drowned out all other noise but he could have sworn that John was actually _talking_ to the cow. 

Rodney came to a stop by them and said, “Okay. Now what?”

“Now,” John replied, moving over to Atlantis, “I’m going to radio Evan to bring the trailer by and get this girl back where she belongs. Then I’m going to head over to where the herd is supposed to be and make sure everything’s okay. Last thing I need is my cows going AWOL.”

Rodney held onto the horses, side eyeing the cow as it moved, shoving its mouth into the snow and munching on the grass underneath. He listened as John put actions to words, talking to Evan about the loose cow and making plans to get it back.

John came up next to him. Rodney could feel the tension in him. “Evan’s on his way. I can’t raise Ronon or Aiden on the radio. It’s not like them to not answer. Something’s wrong, I can feel it, but I can’t go check until Evan gets here. I can’t risk her wandering off and getting hurt.”

He wished there was something he could do. He didn’t understand cows and only sort of understood ranching, but he liked Ronon and Aiden. They were nice to him and Aiden taught him about taking care of Peej. He hoped they were okay. Rodney shifted both reins to one hand and wrapped his arm around John’s shoulders. John leaned into him, relaxing just a touch. 

Twenty minutes later, Evan pulled up in the pickup, an animal trailer hitched to the back. He hopped out and John met him halfway, hands moving as he explained the situation to his friend. Evan, for his part, just nodded then clapped John on the shoulder and said something that had a bit more of the tension slipping away.

Between the two of them, Evan and John got the cow moving, practically shoving it up into the trailer. Evan slammed the door shut and headed for the pickup. “I’ll meet you there.”

“See you in a bit,” John replied, lifting a hand in a wave. Evan drove off.

John took Atlantis’ reins from Rodney and swung up into the saddle. Rodney hurriedly climbed onto PJ. Without a word, John dug his heels into Atlantis’ side and took off, Rodney and PJ a few feet behind.

As they rode through the snowy land, Rodney hoped that this was just an anomaly. That the rest of the cows, and Ronon, and Aiden were just fine.

* * *

Worry filled him, erasing the lightheartedness of the past hour. John urged Atlantis on, not even feeling the cold on his face and bare hands, barely aware of Rodney behind him. Evan was just as concerned when John had told him there’d been no response on the radio. Something caught his eye and he looked over, pulling on the reins in surprise. Atlantis skidded to a stop, chest heaving.

Shit.

Rodney came to a stop next to him. “Why’d you stop?” he asked.

John pointed off to the side.

Rodney leaned around him to look and John scrubbed a hand over his face. Shit shit _shit_.

“Okay. That’s not good,” Rodney said.

“No,” John replied, voice tight. “It’s not.” It was not good at all to find half a dozen cows outside the pasture, away from the herd. And no sign of either of the two men who were supposed to be watching them. “Come on.” He kicked Atlantis back into motion. The pasture wasn’t that far from here. There had to be a reason for this.

He just wasn’t sure he’d like that reason when he learned it.

More cows wandered, the closer they got to the pasture. The fence came into view and John angled Atlantis towards it. He slowed her, walking along the fencing. A significant portion of the herd still remained with the pasture, milling around like they did. But he couldn’t see any sign of his friends or their horses. John clicked his tongue, Atlantis moving into a trot as he kept moving, looking for how the cows had gotten out.

“John!” Rodney called after a few minutes.

John looked back at him. Rodney stretched out an arm and John followed it, squinting to try and see what he was pointing at.

An odd shape in the snow, a bit of darkness where there shouldn’t have been. John pulled on the reins, studying it. Then it coalesced into a _very_ familiar shape and ice slid down his spine. Oh fuck no. John jumped off Atlantis, vaulted the fence and ran.

No no no no no . . . .

John dropped to his knees next to Aiden, rolled him onto his back, and frantically checked for a pulse. “Come on come on come _on_ ,” he muttered.

The kid had a pulse, strong. Okay, so why was he lying in the snow unconscious? And where was Ronon? John gently slapped his face. “Aiden!” he called. He slapped Aiden’s cheek again, a little harder.

“Oh my god. Is he okay?” Rodney had joined him, hovering over his shoulder.

“Come on, kid,” John said urgently, shaking him a little. _Please be okay_. “Aiden!”

Aiden let out a faint moan. John closed his eyes briefly in relief. _Oh thank god._ His eyes slowly opened and he winced. “Colonel?” he mumbled.

“Yeah. Yeah, kid, it’s me. You okay?”

Aiden sat up, wincing, and put a hand against the back of his head. “Owww. My head hurts like a b—it hurts.” He looked up at John. “What are you doing here, boss? Thought you were spending the day with—oh, hi, Rodney.”

“Hi,” Rodney said quietly. “Glad you’re okay.”

“The herd escaped and then you and Ronon didn’t answer the radio.” John scanned him for injuries. “I got worried something had happened. Turned out I was right. What happened? Where’s Ronon?”

Aiden blinked a couple times and looked around, like he’d just realized he was on the ground and Ronon wasn’t there. “Uh.” He turned back to John and frowned, thinking. “Ronon . . . Ronon went to make sure we didn’t have any stragglers so I was at the front by myself. I was making my way around the edges when something caught my eye over by the fence.”

John interrupted, “Where?”

Aiden looked around, winced slightly, then pointed. “There. There was something over there that—that caught my eye.”

John looked in that direction but couldn’t quite see anything out of the ordinary. He’d check it out after he got the full story and made sure his friends were okay. “What did you see?”

Aiden shook his head. “I’m not sure. I was on my way over when something spooked Chopper. I got off and kept going then . . . I don’t know.”

Chopper. Aiden’s horse. John would have to find him. John frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You were unconscious on the ground, Aiden. You have no idea how you got there?”

Aiden shrugged. “Sorry, boss. I think something hit me in the head and then I just remember things going dark.”

Fuck. John stood, walked a few feet away and braced his hands on his hips. He fought the urge to swear, loudly and vociferously. This had all the earmarks of the Genii and after his last conversation, John had the sinking feeling that Todd was also somehow involved. He heard Rodney and Aiden talking quietly behind him then footsteps approached.

John knew it was Rodney even before he spoke. “I can take Aiden back to the house, ask that—that doctor to come by. The one who came over when I first got here?”

That was a good idea. Then John could figure out what had happened to his other friend, knowing that Rodney and Aiden were safely at the house.

The radio on his belt squawked. “Lorne to Sheppard.”

_What now?_ John tugged it free and brought it to his mouth. “Go for Sheppard.”

“Found out where the cows escaped from. Someone tore down part of the fence.”

John closed his eyes. “Alright,” he replied. “We don’t have time to deal with that right now. See if you can rope it off or something and come back to where the majority of the herd is. We’ve got more problems.”

There was a momentary pause then Evan asked, warily, “What kind of problems?”

Rodney slipped a hand into his and squeezed. John gave him a tight smile. “Someone knocked Aiden out, we’ve got more cows wandering around, and Ronon’s MIA. I’m gonna send Rodney and the kid back to the house then set out to search for Ronon. You mind catching cows?”

“I can do that. The kid’s okay?”

“Yeah. A bump on the head but he’ll be okay.”

“Alright. On my way.”

John hooked the radio back onto his belt and dragged his hand over his face. Rodney drew him into his arms and John let himself have the comfort for a brief moment, letting his head sink onto Rodney’s shoulder. “Can we rewind?” he muttered into Rodney’s shoulder. “Go back to an hour ago?”

Rodney pressed a kiss to his head. “I wish.”

John wished he could stay there but he had a missing friend to locate. Reluctantly, he pulled back. “Evan’ll be here soon with the truck. Take Aiden back in it. Call Carson; his number should be by the phone in my office. If not, it’s in a drawer or you can call Laura. She’ll be able to get ahold of him.”

Rodney nodded, his blue eyes worried. “Ronon will be okay. He’s tough.”

John appreciated the sentiment. He pressed a quick kiss to Rodney’s mouth and said, “Keep the radio close by.” He walked back over to Aiden, who was up on his feet and swaying slightly. “Hey, kid, Rodney’s gonna take you back to the house once Evan gets here with the truck and then he’s gonna call the doc to come by. Don’t give him a hard time.”

“Who? The doc or Rodney?” Aiden asked with a faint grin.

John shook his head. “Behave. I’m going to go find Ronon.” He jogged over to the fence, climbed over, mounted Atlantis and rode off. He really had no plan but he figured he’d make a circle of the pasture, see if he could locate any tracks. John resisted the urge to look back, to check on Rodney and Aiden. One thing at a time and right now, all of his focus needed to be on finding Ronon.

* * *

The sun had set. Carson had come and gone, with orders for Aiden to rest and a prescription for Tylenol for the pain. The bump on the head appeared to be the only injury, though he was currently lying on the couch, under a couple thick blankets. He was also in some of John’s clothes since his clothes had been soaked from lying in the snow. Rodney figured John wouldn’t mind.

Rodney couldn’t sit still. He would sit for a bit, then get up and pace only to find himself staring out the windows. Then pace again for a bit. They hadn’t heard back from John or Evan yet, though he assumed Evan had gotten all the cows back inside the fence and had headed out to join John in his search. He stared out the windows, hoping he’d somehow be able to see them riding up the lane. Behind him, Aiden flipped through the available TV channels.

Someone had torn the fence apart and incited the cows to leave. Who would have done that? What would someone gain from doing that to John?

On the heels of that question came the obvious answer: Cowan. Rodney had been there when John and Cowan had threatened each other. If Cowan wanted to force John to sell, then of course sabotage would be an option.

Rodney went back to the chair, watching the TV but not really paying attention. John hadn’t been able to afford the lumber to repair the fence he was already fixing, how was he going to afford more to fix this? He chewed his lip, thinking it over. 

It shouldn’t cost _that_ much, right? It was just wood, already cut and sanded and other woodworking terms he didn’t know. He could do this. It was just a little extra help. And John really didn’t need to worry about that on top of everything else that had happened today, right?

Rodney nodded to himself. Right. He could do this.

Getting to his feet, he headed for the office and searched for a phone book. Nothing. He woke up the computer and tried to search for the hardware store online, looking for a phone number to call. Nothing. He poked his head out into the main room. “Hey!” he called.

Aiden called back, “What?”

“Where would I find a phone number for the hardware store in town?”

He saw Aiden sit up and look over the back of the couch at him. “Why do you want that?”

Rodney refrained from rolling his eyes. “So I can order dinner. I want to buy the lumber to replace the length of the fence that was destroyed but John doesn’t have a phone book and the store doesn’t have an online presence that I can find.”

Aiden blinked. “Oh. Uh, try . . . . uh, the drawer in the kitchen? The Colonel sometimes puts important stuff in there.”

A drawer in the kitchen. Okay. Rodney went to the kitchen, opening all the drawers until he found a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it with “Jack” written next to it, and some math. It looked like John had been trying to figure out what he could afford. It saddened Rodney that he was struggling so and refused to let anyone help. It just made him feel better about just transferring the money in, though he still wasn’t looking forward to the conversation that would happen when John learned about it.

Perhaps he should take the opportunity during one of their rides to tell him.

Rodney took the paper back to the office and dialed. He wasn’t sure if the store would still be open and, if they weren’t, should he leave a voicemail?

“Y’ello!” a man answered.

Rodney paused. “Um, is—is this the hardware store? In Aurora Falls?”

“Sure is! I’m Jack. What can I do you for?”

“Ah, good! This is Rodney, I’m not sure you remember me. We only met the one time and I was with John. Sheppard?”

“Ah, yeah, I remember you. What’s up?”

Rodney sat down. “I need to place an order.”

“Great! What for?”

“Wood.”

“Yeah,” Jack drawled. “We got that. What kind d’you want? And how much?”

Rodney frowned. “Well, see, I’m not sure about that. I know nothing about this and John’s . . . . currently unavailable.”

Jack said slowly, “Okaaay . . . what do you need it for?”

Rodney debated how much to tell him. Jack seemed to care about John. Well, nearly everyone in town did. But there was still the matter of how much John wanted people to know. It was a thin line that Rodney was treading. “There was some damage done to the fencing around one of the pastures and the wood is, well, it’s useless. I know John had ordered some for another fence he was replacing and I thought I could just . . . re-order that?” If it turned out to be too much for this section, well, then John had some extra to tuck away. Win, win.

Jack hummed thoughtfully. “Alright. I can do that. You want it delivered or is Sheppard going to pick it up?”

“Uh, can you deliver it?”

“Sure, sure. Gonna have to be tomorrow, though. That okay?”

“Tomorrow?” Rodney stuck his head out the door and called, “Hey, can Jack deliver wood for the fence tomorrow?”

A thumbs-up appeared over the back of the couch.

Rodney grinned briefly and stepped back inside the office. “Yeah, tomorrow’s good. Can I pay over the phone?”

“Can do.”

Rodney rattled off his credit card info, Jack promised to have it all delivered tomorrow, and just as Rodney was setting the phone back in the cradle, the radio in the office went off.

“John to Rodney, you there?”

Rodney nearly fell, scrambling for the radio. He fumbled it out of the base and had to turn it around before his fingers could depress the talk button. “I’m here, I’m here. Did you find Ronon? Is he okay? Are you okay?”

He could hear the exhaustion in John’s voice as he replied, “Yes, yes, and yes. How’s things there?”

Rodney sank into the chair, a hand over his face. Oh good. “It’s good. We’re good. Carson came by, said Aiden’s just going to have a headache for a day or so. Nothing serious. The kid’s currently taking up the entire couch _and_ the remote.”

“Good. Evan and I are going to drop Ronon off at his place. I’ll be home soon.”

Rodney closed his eyes, his heart skipping a beat at that. God, he wished . . .

“Rodney? You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m—I’m still here. That—that all sounds good. Um. See you soon.”

“. . . see you soon.”

Rodney’s hand dropped into his lap, the radio still clutched in it. Jesus, but this was rough on his heart. When had he started to care for more than just John?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I had the whole story written and then an idea for another scene popped into my head, I wound up rewriting these last few chapters to incorporate the new stuff and now the fic is another chapter longer. Hope you enjoy it!


	10. Chapter Ten

John dropped onto the couch, let his head fall back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He was tired. So tired that the anger that should have been burning him from the inside out was only at a low simmer. It would surge tomorrow, he was sure. He drew a slow breath in through his nose and blew it out his mouth. He heard footsteps then the couch dipped next to him.

“The sheriff’s gone. And Lorne just left with Aiden so it’s just us now,” Rodney told him.

John hummed in acknowledgment, eyes still closed. Hopefully the kid would spend a couple of days with his grandparents before coming back, though he doubted it. Aiden was too much like him to be away for long. At least no one else got hurt. 

Caldwell wasn’t the nicest guy but he was a good sheriff and he’d come out when John called. This, at least, they could legitimately file as sabotage. Caldwell didn’t like John’s accusations, just promised to follow the investigation wherever it led. Ronon’s description of the man he’d been tracking when Aiden was hit didn’t fit anyone John had met, which was a good indicator that it was someone who worked for Cowen and the Genii corporation.

Rodney rested a hand on John’s thigh. “Hey, you okay?”

John opened his eyes, rolled his head to the side to look over at him. He smiled faintly and took Rodney’s hand, lacing their fingers together as they rested on his thigh. “I’m pissed as hell. Tired. God, I can’t believe they’d stoop to sabotaging me, but I’m grateful things didn’t turn out worse. Aiden’s just got a bump on the head and all the animals were rescued. Beyond that . . . . beyond that I will figure out tomorrow.” Like how the fuck he was going to fix the fence. That meant two pastures were out of commission.

“In that case,” Rodney said and leaned in for a kiss.

John said apologetically, “I’m sorry, but I’m not really up for anything right now.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine. We could watch a movie instead?”

“That sounds great, actually.”

Rodney grinned, kissed him again, then got up to go pick a movie. John watched him and thought about how his night would have gone if it were just him in the house. Evan would probably have insisted on sticking around but eventually he’d go back to his place. Leaving John alone in the quiet house to dwell on things.

The familiar musical sounds of Paramount Picture’s logo cascaded from the speakers as Rodney returned to the couch. “What’d you pick?” John asked, shifting so their shoulders touched.

“I saw you had one of the newer _Star Trek_ movies. That okay?”

“Yeah.” They fell silent as the movie’s opening scene started, revealing a sleek futuristic-looking spaceship making its way through the vastness of space.

After a few minutes, Rodney’s hand found his again and John leaned into him, letting his walls down and just enjoying being with Rodney. With someone who got him and was there for him without asking for anything in return or—or taking advantage of him. 

Tomorrow he would deal with the fallout of the day but for now . . .

For now, John would take a night for himself.

* * *

The numbers blurred before him, threatening to rise up off the papers. John tossed his pencil aside and ran his hands through his hair, rubbed his eyes. This was beginning to feel like an exercise in futility. After the movie—which John had fallen asleep during—they’d gone to bed and then this morning, John had tackled the problem of the fence.

“Why can’t we figure this out?” he muttered, half under his breath.

“We will.” Evan got up to refill their coffee cups. “It’ll just take some work, that’s all.”

John lowered his hands and studied the pages before him. They were at Evan’s, having started early that morning and set about trying to magically find money. Somewhere, there had to be something he could use, some hidden reservoir of funds he hadn’t yet dipped into. It seemed like everything they tried came out short. Or took from something that was desperately needed. John couldn’t afford to take out another loan.

In the back of his mind, though, he knew there was still the nuclear option. If he chose to pull the strings. His brother would help, John was fairly certain, if he knew it was for Mom. But that still meant strings and lawyers and his father. And John was not ready for that, not yet. Maybe not ever.

Yesterday had really thrown him for a loop. How things could go from hot and heavy with Rodney against a tree to nearly losing two of his friends and having his property damaged, John didn’t know. He also hadn’t known just how much he had leaned on Rodney yesterday, from trusting him with Aiden, to accepting the little bits of comfort offered. John hadn’t accepted comfort from anyone in a long time.

Being able to have that was nice. Really nice.

John rubbed his eyes. 

“Uh, John?” Evan said, his tone odd.

“Mmm?” John responded without lowering his hands.

“You expecting a delivery?”

“What?” John looked over. Evan stood by the window. John got up and joined him. A deep blue pickup was pulling up alongside his house, the bed full of what looked like slats of wood. They shared a confused look then, without a word, both of them pulled on their coats and boots and headed outside.

By the time John and Evan reached the pickup, the driver had gotten out and was lowering the truck’s gate. John felt a jolt of shock when he recognized the driver. “Jack?” he called out, walking faster. What was he doing here? And why was he delivering lumber?

Jack looked up and waved. “Hey, Sheppard! Lorne! One of you lend me a hand?”

Evan exchanged another look with John before jogging over. Jack hopped up into the bed and started sliding the slats out for Evan to grab the other end. Jack hopped out and they carried the load over to the side of the house and set it down before coming back to get more.

John stood by the lowered gate, staring at the load in surprise. “Uh, Jack, what—what is all this?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“Didn’t who tell me what?” John asked as Evan and Jack carried another load over.

They set it down then Jack paused, looking over at him. “Rodney.”

The name was like a punch to the gut. But Jack was still talking.

“He called yesterday, said something about you having some fence trouble. He didn’t know much but remembered you’d picked up some replacements for another stretch of fence and asked if he could order the same.” Jack shrugged and came back over, climbing up into the truck to hand the next load to Evan. “He paid for it over the phone and arranged for delivery. He didn’t tell you?”

Evan went still, his eyes going to John, worry clear in them. 

John’s mind was spinning. His stomach twisted. He wouldn’t. Not after . . . No. Rodney didn’t lie to him. He didn’t. John wanted so much to cling to that sense of certainty he’d had but . . . he couldn’t. Because Jack had just handed him irrefutable truth that Rodney had lied to him, about something important.

Rodney knew John was having financial trouble, John knew. But instead of talking to him about it, Rodney had decided he knew best and went and bought all of this without a word. Not even a mention of the fact that this was going to be delivered to John’s home, while John was here.

All morning, John and Evan had been frantically trying to find a way to do just this without involving his family and Rodney had—had already done it. Had done it while he was supposed to be looking after Aiden, while John was trying to find Ronon and make sure he was okay. And hadn’t said a damn word, not then and not this morning. Nothing about how Jack was supposed to bring it by, nothing about having ordered it and fucking _paid_ for it in the first place!

There was a horrible rock settling in his stomach and John felt his heart crack. He finally found his voice and it came out tight and chilly, “No. He didn’t tell me. He didn’t tell me a damned thing.”

John strode off, leaving them behind as he headed for the back gate.

Behind him, he heard Evan call his name and Jack ask, “Was it something I said?”

He shoved the door open and went to the office without even stopping to take off his coat or boots, trailing snow across the wooden floor. The office was empty and John shut the door, surveying the room. His posters. His file cabinet. His computer, his photos.

Rodney’s computer.

Rodney’s notebook.

Rodney’s half-filled coffee mug.

Rodney everywhere he looked, in every part of his life that John had allowed him in. That wasn’t enough for him, though, was it? Because Rodney had forced his way into John’s finances, into his personal and private business. Without permission, without even _telling_ him!

He was breathing hard. If Rodney had gone ahead and done this, what else had he done? How else had he just— _inserted_ himself into John’s life? What else had he decided he had the right to do?

* * *

Twenty minutes later, John had his answer.

And he had no idea how to feel about it.

Everything had been paid off.

_Everything_.

From diner bills to bank loans, Rodney had fucking paid off everything John owed anyone. And then had left extra funds in John’s account for future _and_ bought enough wood to replace his fences. So much money. Rodney had said he worked for the government and that he had a decent paycheck but this . . . this was too much. This was crossing a line, a line John had specifically asked him not to cross. Yet he had.

He dropped his forehead onto the desk, gripping the back of his neck. His thoughts and feelings were all over the place. Eventually, things coalesced into one thought: why?

Why would Rodney do this? Why wouldn’t he tell John?

Why would he lie?

The need to know finally won out and John stood. If Rodney wasn’t at the house, then he was at the barn. He’d gotten surprisingly attached to Peej in the last few days. John would give him one chance, one chance to explain _why_.

And hope the answer didn’t continue to widen the cracks already spreading through his chest.

* * *

He found Rodney in the barn, as expected, with Aiden. They were in PJ’s stall, the horse on a lead in the aisle. John frowned at that. The kid was supposed to be resting, not mucking out stalls! His temper ratcheted up a notch as he stormed over. “Hey,” he called out, voice tight with emotion, “you’re supposed to be resting!”

Rodney looked up and over, a bright smile lighting his face as he saw John. He lifted a hand in welcome as Aiden looked over, a sheepish expression crossing his face. “Sorry, boss,” he said quickly and stepped out of the stall. “Just showing Rodney something. I’m not doing any work, I swear.”

John narrowed his eyes. Yeah, like he believed that. “I believe Evan could use your assistance with something back at the house,” he told him.

Aiden shot a look at Rodney then nodded. “Uh, yeah. Sure thing, Colonel.” He slid past John without touching him then hurried out of the barn.

Leaving John alone with Rodney, who was exiting the stall himself, now. He frowned at John as he leaned a shovel against the stall. “You okay? You seem . . . tense.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.” Rodney came over, reaching a hand out. 

John took a step back. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Rodney touched him right now, he was so tightly coiled. He studied Rodney, trying to find answers in his face. In his eyes. He hadn’t believed Rodney could do this to him, not after he’d shared so much of himself. Not after what happened with Todd. John felt fragile, then, like the right words from Rodney would just . . . shatter him completely.

“John?” Rodney asked, tentative.

His heart was starting to pound rather painfully in his chest. “Why?” he asked softly.

Rodney blinked. “Why what? Why was Aiden in the stall? He’s fine; I didn’t let him do anything strenuous. He was just showing me how to—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” John interrupted.

“Okay, then help me out here. I’m not a mind-reader. What are we talking about?”

John narrowed his eyes, flung the words at him like a bullet from the pistol in his lockbox. “We’re talking about the delivery of wood that Jack is currently unloading next to my house.” He had the gratifying feeling of seeing Rodney flinch even as the knife twisted deeper, his voice rising with each added shot to the heart. “We’re _talking_ about the sudden influx of money in my bank account. We’re talking about all of my bills paid and the bank loan paid off! _That’s_ what we’re talking about, McKay!”

Rodney raised his hands in a gesture even John knew was placating and it did nothing to ease his anger. “John. I can explain.”

“God, I wish you would. Because I just can’t figure out _why_.” John’s voice cracked and he crossed his arms to hide the sudden shaking in his hands. “Why would you do that? And why wouldn’t you tell me? Ask me?”

“Because I knew you’d say no,” Rodney answered quietly.

“Damn right I would have!”

“But you needed it!”

“I had it covered!”

“No you didn’t!”

“And how would you know! You didn’t bother to talk to me about it!”

Rodney blew out his breath, put his hands on his hips. “Okay, look. You are having financial trouble. Don’t insult me by lying about it. I have ears and I’ve heard and observed enough during my time here to know that you’re barely hanging onto this place.”

John gritted his teeth, felt a muscle tick in his jaw. His dirty laundry out there for everyone to see. Just what he didn’t want.

“You’re relying on two military pensions to supply three paychecks, pay the bills, feed all of these animals, and pay for repairs. I may not have served, but even I know that that’s not nearly enough. Even with a bank loan, which I’m sure you have.”

“Because you paid it off,” John muttered.

Rodney sighed impatiently. “Yes, John, because I paid it off.”

“I had a payment plan. I was good. I don’t need your money!”

“Yes, you do! And if you’d just let me pay you for letting me stay here, we wouldn’t—”

“Dammit, I’m not charging you to stay in my house!” John retorted.

Rodney threw his hands in the air. “Why the hell not! That would have solved everything!”

“Not like that,” John replied, shaking his head. “I don’t take handouts. I’m good on my own. I don’t need your charity or—or your pity.”

“It’s not! John, it’s not!” Rodney tried to reach for him again and again, John stepped out of reach. “Look, I can help.”

“I don’t need your help. Which you’d have known if you’d just fucking _asked_ me before inserting yourself into my personal and private business!”

“God, I knew if I told you, you would refuse and have a mild freak-out about your manly pride or something equally silly. It’s not weakness to let someone who cares about you help you!” Rodney snapped.

“Cares about me?” John repeated. Todd supposedly cared about him. Cared about him so much he tried to force John to sell his family home. So now Rodney _cared_ about him. Yeah, right. “You—Rodney, you haven’t committed to anything! How am I supposed to believe you truly care about me when you won’t actually commit to coming back once you leave? You’re holding onto that six months thing like it’s a lifeline, like it gives you a reason to not promise anything.”

Rodney blinked several times. “Wha—where the hell did that come from?”

John shook his head. “You keep saying I’m the one who started things. Is that so you don’t feel guilty when you leave after completely upending my life? You don’t understand! Once you leave, I’m still going to have to figure this out on my own, so let me spell it out for you, in words you can understand: I don’t want your money! I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that but I don’t want it and I don’t need it. And I certainly don’t need you to act like you give a damn about me when you don’t!”

Rodney jerked like John had slapped him. “You—you don’t mean that,” he said faintly.

John couldn’t catch his breath. How had things imploded so quickly? “Get out,” he said harshly. He needed things to go back to normal, to the way they were before Rodney arrived at his house in the middle of a snowstorm. He needed to get things back under his control.

“John—”

“I knew I shouldn’t have given in, that you were just going to leave anyway. Evan warned me, he said it was going to end badly. I should have listened to him. Instead . . .” John closed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears. “Go, Rodney. Just—just go. The keys to your car are in the desk. Get your stuff and just . . . just get out of my life.”

John refused to open his eyes, to watch Rodney walk past him. The floorboards creaked and he felt Rodney’s mouth press lightly against his cheek before he was gone. He wanted to . . . but he didn’t. He couldn’t. John waited until the crunch of snow faded from hearing before the weight of everything pressed him to the floor. John dropped to his knees, hugging himself tightly, and bowed his head, the tears finally escaping from behind his closed eyelids.

It was his family all over again.

Every time he thought dad was reaching out, that they were finally going to find a way to mend things, there were strings attached. Dad wanted John back, but under his terms. Under his control. If John wanted to talk to his brother, he had to jump through hoops. Everything had a price. And it was never about actually wanting to be a family again. John had worked so long to get away from that, to provide for himself without having to depend on anyone who would take advantage of him like his family had.

To have first Todd, then Rodney, do the same damn thing . . . . it was a wonder John didn’t give up on everything right then and there.

* * *

Somehow he made it back to the house, to the room he’d left his belongings in despite sharing John’s bed at night. His vision was blurry as he haphazardly threw things into suitcases, still trying to figure out what had just happened. How could John think that of him? After everything that had happened this past week, after everything they’d shared, how could John think that Rodney didn’t care about him? Didn’t want him to be happy?

He’d known John would be upset with him over the money thing but this . . . this was more than upset. God, the look in his eyes . . .

Rodney paused his attempt to zip the suitcase and had to scrub his eyes so he could see. He’d been contemplating staying, bringing his sister and her family to visit . . . and John thought he wanted to leave and never come back?

Something else had happened. It had to have. There was no other reason for John’s reaction to a little bit of financial help.

Okay, it was a little more than that but still. He did it because he cared.

Rodney took a shaky breath, then another, and managed to zip his suitcase. If John could think that badly of him after everything, then maybe it was better he leave. Save them the pain of a drawn out break up.

Yeah. He grabbed his other suitcase and headed downstairs. Yeah. That was—that was good. He had learned what it meant to fall in love and what it meant to have a broken heart. He could chalk it up to a life lesson and go back to his lab. To his science and his stars. To things that would never make him feel this bad.

At the bottom of the stairs, Rodney made a detour to the office to gather his computer equipment. In one of the drawers, he found his rental car keys and stared at them for a long moment. How was he supposed to get his car? 

“Hey, John, did—oh, McKay.” Lorne was in the doorway, a frown of confusion on his face. “Are you going somewhere?”

Rodney plucked the keys from the drawer, clutched them in his hand, and straightened. “Yeah. Can you give me a ride into town?”

Lorne frowned slightly. “Uh, sure. Everything okay?”

Rodney strode past him and went to switch out the boots he’d been borrowing for his own shoes, pulled on his coat. “John—John says my car’s fixed. I need a ride into town so I can get it and get going. It’s past time I left. Can we get going?”

Lorne’s frown deepened. “Isn’t John coming with us? You know, to say goodbye?”

Rodney laughed and it had a tinge of hysteria to it. “He already did that, when he told me to get out of his life. Are you going to drive me or not?”

Lorne rubbed his mouth, looked down, then back up. “Look, whatever he said, I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“Trust me, he meant it,” Rodney replied shortly. “And he’s right. I have my own life to get back to. I never should have let myself think this was somewhere I could stay or even come back to. Look, if you don’t want to drive me, it’s fine. I’ll—I’ll ask Aiden or—”

“I can drive you,” Lorne interrupted, looking unhappy about it. “Come on; I’m parked out front.”

“Thanks.” Rodney followed Lorne out to his truck, they got his luggage inside, then Lorne pulled out. Rodney made a point of not looking back as they left. It hurt too much already. Giving in to one last glimpse of the place he’d felt the happiest in his life wasn’t something he felt he could give himself.

_Goodbye, John,_ he thought, and the tears escaped, sliding silently down his face.

* * *

Evan found him as the sun was setting. 

After falling apart in the barn, John had left and just . . . walked. Away from the ranch, away from what he’d thought was, well, it didn’t matter anymore because it was over. And it wasn’t real, anyway. His feet had taken him to a spot up on top of a hill, a trek up a winding forest path that led to a small clearing overlooking the vast acreage he’d inherited and fought to keep. He could see the herd in the distance, a faint smudge of black against the white snow.

Sitting on a stump, John’s hands moved restlessly, tossing rocks or sticks. He kept one long one and aimlessly drew shapes in the snow as he stared off into the distance in an attempt to not think or feel. It was easier that way, as he’d found after his friends had died. Feeling hurt too much.

It was only as his friend silently slid onto a stump next to him that John realized he’d gone off with no way for them to contact him. The radio he usually carried with him was back in Evan’s house. Evan didn’t say anything, just sat and waited for John to break the silence first. John glanced at what he’d drawn, drew a line through it. His voice was scratchy and sounded numb even to himself as he finally said, “You draw the short straw?”

Evan replied quietly, “I dropped Rodney off in town to pick up his car from the shop. I tried to get him to stay, to just drive it back here, but he somehow got it into his head that you want him gone. Now where would he have gotten that idea?”

“Probably when I told him to get out of my life.”

Evan sighed heavily. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t intentionally sabotage the one good thing you had going for you.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

Evan swore under his breath.

“You were right,” John said quietly.

“About what?” he asked warily.

John scrubbed his face with his free hand. “About not starting something with McKay. About it not ending well for anyone. I should’ve listened. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like such an idiot right now.”

“John. What did you do?”

John shook his head, felt his eyes burn but there was nothing there. He’d done all his crying earlier. “I talked to the bank and then I went to ask him about it. Ask him why he’d decided to just—just come in and pay off all my bills like I’m some charity case. Everything always comes back to money, using it to get to me, to control me.” 

Evan sighed again. 

John abruptly asked, “Is honesty too much to ask for?” He shoved to his feet, threw the stick away. “All my life, I’ve been surrounded by people who lie to me. Who—who tell me they know what’s right for me, how I should live my life, who can’t just leave me the fuck alone. Everything comes back to money and wanting to control me through it. God, I thought I’d gotten away from that when I came out here but it turns out that every time— _every_ time!—I open myself up, I get hurt. What’s the point?” he asked, defeated. He had nothing left. He was completely and utterly drained and just . . . just done. With everything.

He heard Evan stand, heard the snow crunch under his boots as he walked over. Evan turned John to face him and said firmly, “Now you listen to me, alright? It’s hard to open up, to take the risk of getting hurt. I know. But you can’t keep yourself locked away! Can't hold your heart hostage for someone who will never lie to you!”

“Why not?” John demanded. “What’s the point of caring about someone if they’re just going to destroy you?”

Something flickered in Evan’s eyes, something that looked a lot like fear. He gripped John’s shoulders tight. “Don’t go there,” he said in a low voice. 

“Don’t go where?”

“Afghanistan. Don’t go there, John. Don't let the grief take you down that road again.”

John’s breath caught. Afghanistan. Mitch. Holland. Friends who’d died because of his actions. Because he’d cared. The pain sunk deeper into his skin.

Evan continued, “You cannot live your life refusing to let people in. We can’t save everyone, we can’t protect ourselves from being hurt, but you _have_ to take that risk. That’s called living!”

John tried to pull free but his friend’s grip was like iron. “Ev . . .”

“McKay brought something out in you that I haven’t seen since we left the service,” Evan said, searching his gaze. “He wasn’t who I expected you to fall for, but he made you happy. No, don’t say anything. Just listen.”

John closed his mouth, gritted his teeth and raised a silent eyebrow.

“McKay is . . . he is a loudmouth, and arrogant, and condescending and I really cannot see what you see in him. But he makes you laugh. And you took time off of work to have fun. You went riding; you took him to your favorite spots! And that was before you slept with him! In the last three days alone, I’ve seen more smiles from you than I have in the four years we’ve lived here.”

John swallowed hard, averted his gaze.

“So what if he paid off some bills? That’s what couples do! They help each other. I’m sure if you were in his position, you’d do the same thing. Because you’re a good man, John. And so is he. And he cares about you a lot. I saw him as he was leaving. This— _you_ —did not mean nothing to him. It was not about the money, I can tell you that with absolute certainty. Rodney is in love with you and you’re in love with him. It wouldn’t hurt this much if you weren’t.”

John’s breath hitched. That’s exactly why he had to pull away. He couldn’t keep hurting like this. He wouldn’t be able to keep going if it happened again. “Evan, I—I can’t. I can’t do this again,” John said, voice cracking. “I can’t.”

Evan sighed and let him go. “John . . . you deserve the world and I wish I could give it to you. And I know it hurts right now but you can’t shut yourself off again. I won’t watch you do that again. Once you stop feeling angry and hurt, you need to think about what it is you want. If it’s Rodney, I will help you find him. If it’s not . . . if it’s not Rodney, then I hope you find a way to be happy with someone else one day.”

John didn’t say anything, wrapped his arms around himself and turned away. He’d meant it when he’d asked what the point was. He’d loved his mother and she’d died, leaving him with a father who thought he was a waste of space and a brother who did whatever their father told him to do. Including abandoning his brother. John had lost them both when he enlisted in search of a family who cared.

And he’d found one. Only to lose most of it. His last two attempts at a romantic relationship had firebombed his life. So why should he try again? John wasn’t sure how much more his heart could take before it was incapable of being put back together. But was Evan right? He closed his eyes. Could he take that risk?

Evan said softly, “Think about it, John. You deserve to be happy.”

John finally said, “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay. Good. I’m gonna head back, make sure Aiden gets home safe. Don’t stay up here too long, alright?”

John nodded. Evan rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment then left. John had no doubt that he was going to call Ronon to come keep an eye on him, just in case. And for once, John didn’t mind the overprotectiveness. It was nice to know he had at least one person he could count on to be honest with him.

John resettled on his stump and watched the sunset as it lit up the sky in beautiful shades of red, pink, orange, and yellow. He stayed there as the colors darkened and faded, until dusk turned into night and the stars came out. He found himself seeking out Orion, and Rigel, and felt his throat tighten. He sighed, regretting how easily he’d fallen for someone who turned out to be just like everyone else in his life.

The cold finally became too much and he wasn’t dressed for it. No hat or gloves; his coat wasn’t even zipped all the way. Deciding it was time to head home, John pushed to his feet, wincing as the circulation in his body started up again. Casting one last wistful glance up at the starry sky, John turned and left the overlook, making his way down the trail to the bottom. Ronon joined up with him after a few yards, following him silently down. Once at the bottom, Ronon directed John to the Jeep parked just past the tree line.

They climbed in, Ronon turned up the heat, then gave him a lift back to the house. He pulled up to the back gate and shut the engine off, then turned to John. Ronon narrowed his eyes at him and asked gruffly, “You okay?”

John huffed a laugh. How was he supposed to answer that? “No,” he said honestly.

Ronon nodded, like he’d known that would be the response. “You want me to kick his ass for you?”

That drew a faint smile from him. Whatever else happened, it was nice to know that John had at least two people he could count on to be there to support him. “No.” John shook his head. “Appreciate it, but no, it’s okay. He’s gone . . . and I just have to be more careful next time.” _If there is a next time_ , he added in his head.

“Okay.”

John unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. As he made to hop out, though, Ronon spoke again.

“Oh, hey, I’m supposed to tell you that Evan saved you dinner; it’s in the fridge.”

John twisted on the edge of the seat, one foot out the door. “Oh. Thanks. Well, night, Ronon.”

“Night, Sheppard. Let me know if you change your mind about the ass-kicking.”

“I will.” John hopped out, slammed the door shut, and made his way around the front of the Jeep and through the gate. As he opened the kitchen door and stepped inside, he heard the engine rev as Ronon drove off. He draped his coat over the back of one of the chairs at the island, found the covered plate in the fridge and popped it in the microwave. Laura had made lasagna, green beans, and her homemade rolls and it was delicious. Though, of course, she’d never made anything horrible.

John dumped his dishes in the sink and headed out to the main room only to stop halfway across, his gaze snagging on the open office door. The lights were still on inside but it was empty. In fact, the whole house felt empty. He’d never realized before just how empty this place was with just him rattling around in here until Rodney filled it with noise and light and . . . . and happiness.

_Fuck_. John shook his head and forced his feet to move, to walk over to the office and shut the light off. Then he pulled the door shut and went upstairs where he changed into pajamas and crawled under the covers. He rolled onto his side only to roll back over and stretch an arm out to shut off his bedside lamp. The room plunged into darkness and John rolled onto his left side and closed his eyes.

Between one breath and the next, John fell asleep.

And was embroiled in one hellish nightmare after the next, tossing and turning so often that the covers were wrapped around his legs. He awoke with a start, gasping for breath and wondering where he was. Sweat soaked his shirt, drenched his hair, dripped down his face. John dragged a hand over his face, felt it come away wet with perspiration. He looked over at the alarm clock and groaned. He’d barely been asleep four hours. 

But he couldn’t go back to sleep now, not with how hard his heart was pounding in his chest. How disgusting he felt. Sitting up and disentangling himself, John thought, well, at least he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t care that he felt disgusting. Tugging the wet shirt over his head to drop on the floor, John snagged his Stanford hoodie and went to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, used a towel to wipe the rest of the sweat off, then pulled his hoodie on and went downstairs.

John had half a mind to make his usual comfort snack but once he was in the kitchen, he found he couldn’t summon the will to go through with it. Last time he’d made one, it had been with McKay and it had been the first time they’d talked— _really_ talked—to each other. John had even started to open up about his military past. If only he’d known then what he knew now.

He went back out to the living room and lay down on the couch, one hand tucked under his head. He didn’t quite fit, had to bend his legs, and threw the afghan from the back over his body. Then he reached out to grab the remote off the coffee table and turned the television on, sound down so it was just barely audible. The glow of the screen cast shadows around the room and there wasn’t really much on so John just let the late night paid programming run, numbing his brain until he could fall asleep again.

Morning found him on the porch, leaning on the railing with a steaming mug of coffee in hand, watching the sunrise from the warmth of his coat and hat. Fingerless gloves lifted the mug to his mouth and he sipped. A car trailing a cloud of snow behind it appeared in the distance—Laura. He watched her pull in next to his pickup and climb out, reaching in to grab a bag before heading for the porch.

“Morning, John!” she called out, waving. “Quite the sunrise we’ve got today, huh?”

John lifted a hand. “Morning, Laura,” he called back.

She joined him at the railing and frowned. “You look terrible. Did you get any sleep last night?”

He shrugged. At some point, he must have dozed off on the couch because he awoke to an early morning news show instead of the infomercial for some kitchen utensil. Turning a little towards her, he tipped his chin. “What’s in the bag?”

“Huh?” She looked down. “Oh. Just some pastries and such from the diner. We had extra last night and I figured, at least this way, I won’t have to toss them out. Anyone else up?”

John shook his head. “Just me so far. You need any help in the kitchen?”

“No, I got it. You could send Rodney in, if you want, though. Is he awake yet?” Laura asked with a cheeky grin.

Pain squeezed his chest and he tried to keep it from his voice as he answered, “Rodney left.”

“Oh.” She looked around and added, “I’m surprised I didn’t see him on the road. Which car did he take to town?”

John turned away, went back to leaning on the rail. “He left yesterday, in his car.”

Laura was quiet for a moment then asked, “I didn’t know his car was fixed. Huh. Where’d he go? When’s he coming back?”

“He’s not coming back,” John replied, an edge to his voice now. Telling her to drop it without saying it. “He went to his important conference and then he’ll be going back to his own life.” He drank his coffee. A life that didn’t include him, no matter what Evan said.

After a moment, Laura said, “I guess I should get breakfast going. The door open?”

“Yeah.” John heard the front door open and shut and blew out his breath, watched it fog the air in front of him. This was going to be a rough couple days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!!!


	11. Chapter Eleven

The car hummed along the road, moving easily on the pavement. Occasionally another car would pass by, going the opposite direction, but for the most part, Rodney was alone on the road. He’d had the radio playing when he first set out, but when every station seemed to be playing some version of a breakup song, he’d shut it off, letting the only noise be the toneless feminine voice of his GPS system, giving him directions to Denver. Rodney reached a hand out blindly, fingers skimming the edge of the to-go cup before he managed to lift it out of the cup holder and to his mouth. He took a large swallow of coffee then set it back down, eyes on the road. He was determined not to crash into any more trees.

After all, he was expected in Denver.

Without the radio, Rodney was left alone with his thoughts and they weren’t good. All he could think was that John hadn’t even listened to him, hadn’t let him fully explain why he’d done what he did. And how could John think that of him? That might have been what hurt the most. Not that John had gotten mad—he’d been warned about that—but that John could think that Rodney was . . . was lying to him or, worse, that he was trying to control John. 

That John thought that Rodney didn’t care about him may have been the worst thing John had said, because he did. He did care about John. Very much so.

And he hadn’t lied. Not—not really. More like . . . withheld the truth to be told at a later time.

If only he could get the expression from John’s face out of his mind. In the short time Rodney had known John, he knew John didn’t show his feelings often and only with certain people. So to _see_ the heartbreak, hurt, and betrayal clearly on his face . . .

That hurt.

_Ring ring. Ring ring._

Jerked from his melancholy thoughts, Rodney glanced at his phone and saw, to his surprise, that Radek was calling. He tapped the speaker button and said, “Radek.”

His friend’s voice echoed oddly in the car due to the speakerphone. “Rodney. Was calling to see status of broken car.”

“Well, you’re in luck because the car is fixed. I am,” he checked the GPS, “five hours out. How did the presentation go? You never did say.”

“Five hours. Zat is good,” Radek said. “Ah, presentation did not go, which is why I’m calling. I got our presentation rescheduled for tomorrow.”

Rodney frowned. “You didn’t do it?”

“No. I was trying to reschedule in hopes you would be here soon but instead they cancelled it. I have been in talks with convention organizers for several days and just got word this morning. They have room to squeeze us in at the end of ze conference, so! We present our findings Friday afternoon. Is good news, yes? Even better that your car is fixed.” Radek sounded incredibly pleased with himself. “Now you can revel in fact that you are more brilliant, yes?”

Rodney expected to feel . . . a lot of things. Disappointment and a little bit of anger that Radek hadn’t gone ahead with the presentation. Regret that it had been cancelled. Relief that they still had a chance to present, and that Radek had wanted to do it together. Excitement over being able to finally present his hard-won research. But instead, for the first time he could remember, Rodney was not at all interested in showing up his colleagues.

But Radek was waiting for a response so Rodney summoned up some enthusiasm and replied, “That’s great news. Thanks. We’ll go over it when I get there, make sure everything’s set for Friday.”

Radek answered, “Sounds good. Call when you arrive at hotel. Safe travels, Rodney.”

“Yup.” Rodney disconnected the call and stared out the windshield. He focused on shoving all thoughts of John Sheppard, the ranch, and Aurora Falls into a box in the far reaches of his mind. It had been a wonderful, almost magical, week but it was over now and Rodney had a life to get back to. Never mind that he had honestly entertained the idea of moving out here, something that was sure to shock Radek into speechlessness for a few minutes.

John had made it quite clear that no matter how he felt about Rodney, no matter what they had started building together, John wanted nothing to do with Rodney now. All he’d been trying to do was help. He knew, though, that there was no way John would accept an apology or even listen to Rodney’s explanation, even if Rodney had stayed in town.

The GPS intoned, “Turn right onto US-287 S.”

Rodney blinked several times to get rid of the excess moisture in his eyes and took the upcoming right turn. 

* * *

Five and a half hours later, the skyscrapers of Denver loomed on the horizon and Rodney was plunged back into the chaos of city traffic. After spending a week in the relative wilderness, the sight was jarring. He slammed on the brakes as a car shoved its way in front of him. Rodney laid on the horn, scowling. “Idiot,” he muttered and eased his foot onto the gas again. The GPS directed him to take the exit for Speer Blvd once he was close enough. God, the buildings were huge. And the sky was cloudy, a hazy tint to the air that definitely hadn’t been there in Aurora Falls.

“Use the left lane to turn left onto W Colfax Ave,” the toneless GPS directed him and Rodney obediently followed the direction.

Almost immediately after that, the GPS said, “Use the left 2 lanes to turn left onto Welton St. Your destination will be on the left.”

Rodney had to hurriedly swing into the turn lane, waited for a gap in the oncoming traffic, and swung onto Welton. He scanned the left side of the street, spotting the Hyatt Regency just up the block. He pulled into the drop-off loop, shut the engine off, and picked up his phone. 

Radek picked up on the third ring. “’allo? Rodney?”

“I’m here.” He opened the door, phone pressed against his ear, and went back to the trunk. “Front loop. Where am I supposed to park? Is there valet service?”

“I am in restaurant. Wait, I will come.”

“Fine. But I’m not waiting out here; it’s too damn cold.” Rodney hung up, shoved his phone in his pocket and shivered. He rubbed his hands together, then popped the trunk and started removing his luggage. Not one hotel employee approached him as he wrestled the suitcases up onto the curb, slammed the trunk closed, then reached into the front for his computer bag. Rodney made sure to lock the car before reaching for the handles.

Now that he was looking for the entrance, Rodney noticed that it was a fairly nice front entrance and that there were several people outside. Some were pulling suitcases along behind them, either coming or going. Some were standing around, talking. At least, he thought, his car wasn’t the only one parked in the loop. 

Halfway to the door, Rodney stumbled to a stop and did a double take. There was a statue of a giant blue bear leaning on the side of the building. What the fuck? Shaking off the weirdness—that was something he’d expected to see in Aurora Falls, not Denver—Rodney continued on, through the revolving door and into the hotel’s lobby. The lobby was wide, well –lit from skylights and an abundance of artificial light, and there was a water feature directly opposite the front door. There was some seating on the right, along the bank of windows that took up the lobby’s front walls and a gift shop on the left. Rodney snorted and moved to the side to wait for Radek.

“Rodney!” Radek arrived moments later, rounding the corner with a smile of welcome. He had a convention badge dangling from a lanyard around his neck and he pushed his glasses up his nose as he joined Rodney. “You made it!”

“Yes yes,” Rodney said with a wave of his hand. “I assume my room is still available or am I to sleep on your floor?”

Radek shook his head. “No, no, room is still available. Melanie confirmed. Check in is this way.”

“Who the hell is Melanie?” Rodney asked, tugging his suitcases down the corridor to the right where three desk/kiosks stood against the wall with hotel employees manning each. He got in line behind a man in a suit who was most likely here on a business trip.

“Conference organizer.” Radek grinned as the businessman went up to a desk and they moved up in line. “Is very nice. And very pretty.”

Rodney fought the scowl and instead rolled his eyes like he was expected. “Great, so you’ve been spending your time flirting instead of attending panels. That’s great.”

The desk in the middle opened up and Rodney left his luggage with Radek as he stepped up to the desk, computer bag dangling from his shoulder. He never let it out of his sight.

Except for when he’d stayed at John’s. He hadn’t minded being away from it, not with what he had to distract him. A flush stained his cheeks at the memory but he forced it back as the employee greeted him.

“Hi, yes, I’m checking in. Dr. Rodney McKay, here for the Gordon Research Conference,” he informed her.

She did something with the computer and smiled. “How are you paying?”

Rodney dug out a credit card and handed it over. She swiped it and handed it back then did a couple other things. 

“Okay. Here’s your keycard, your conference badge, schedule of events, and some literature for local restaurants and things to do in Denver if you have some free time. Will you be parking your car with us for the remainder of the conference?”

Rodney took the proffered items, stowing most in his computer bag. He looped the badge over his neck, stuck the keycard in a coat pocket, and replied, “Yes. It’s currently parked out front.”

“Okay, so you probably passed our parking lot on the way. Just take Welton back to 14th, take a right onto 14th, and the entrance will be on the right. There is a charge of $15 a day for parking that will be added to the overall charges when you check out. Any questions?”

Rodney shook his head and turned away, her “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your stay here with us better!” trailing him. He and Radek headed for the bank of elevators, he stabbed the up button and they waited.

He could feel Radek’s gaze on him but he refused to acknowledge the silent question just yet. The interrogation was coming but Rodney hoped to stave it off as long as he could. While they waited, he pulled out the keycard, checked the room number—642—then pulled out the schedule of events and perused it with no particular interest. He recognized several of the presenters as well as making mental notes of which panels to attend and which to avoid like hell. Ooh, and one that would make for great entertainment. Nice.

The elevator arrived with a soft _ding_ , discharged a handful of guests, and Rodney and Radek got on. Rodney hit the button for the sixth floor and asked, “Where’d they stick you?”

“630,” Radek answered, studying him. “Rodney . . .”

“Not now,” Rodney cut him off. The elevator stopped on a couple other floors before depositing them on the sixth. Rodney led the way, Radek towing the other suitcase. He counted off doors and stopped in front of 642. Sliding the keycard into the digital lock, Rodney waited for the light to flick to green before he could open the door and step inside. 

The hotel room itself was just as slick and clean as the lobby had been, which was good. Rodney didn’t want to have to deal with any leftovers from the previous occupants. A pretty typical hotel room, there was a large bed that dominated the room. Rodney slid his suitcases to a spot at the foot of the bed and looked around. An armchair and footrest sat between the bed and the window. There was a desk and chair where he could set up his laptop. A television sat on top of the bureau that most likely also held a mini-fridge. The bathroom was just past the door, with a coat rack tucked into an alcove opposite.

It was nothing like the room he’d had at John’s. That one was full of stained wood, colorful blankets, and personal touches all over to make it comfortable for whomever stayed there. Even after he’d started staying in John’s room, it still felt more comfortable. Felt like home. This one, this bland hotel room, was monochrome and impersonal and felt empty though there wasn’t actually a lot of empty space. Rodney’s mouth twisted in wistfulness for what he’d lost. He allowed himself a moment to wish things hadn’t ended like they had—maybe if they hadn’t fought, John might have come along with him. They’d certainly put this large bed to good use.

He turned around and announced, “I haven’t had a decent meal all day so before we do anything else, I need food and coffee. You’ve been here all week. What’s the best place for that?”

Radek nodded. “The hotel restaurant where I was awaiting your arrival has good coffee and is decently priced.”

“Good,” Rodney said, breezing past him back into the hall. “Let’s go.”

They settled in at a table in the restaurant, Rodney ordered a late lunch and coffee then demanded an update on all things scientific—both panels and gossip—that he’d missed over the past week. He hoped that it would make him feel more like who he’d used to be before the unexpected trip. It wasn’t that he was super interested in it right now but it was a good enough distraction. And a reminder of what existed outside Sheppard and the ranch.

Radek proceeded to give him a summary of each panel he’d attended so far, and gave his opinions of which ones were worth a second look at their research. Then Radek switched to sharing the local gossip and rumors, including a few surrounding Rodney’s absence/late arrival. It soured Rodney’s stomach to hear the amount of talk that discussed what a coward he must be, how bad his research must be that he wouldn’t show. It was typical at this kind of event, but it still stung.

Eventually, though, he leaned back in his chair and waved a hand in resignation. “All right. Go ahead.”

Radek immediately asked, “Where have you been all week?”

Rodney answered, “A little town in Wyoming called Aurora Falls. Well, technically, I was staying at a ranch just outside the town, but close enough.”

His friend raised an eyebrow. “You? At a ranch?” he asked skeptically. “This, I do not believe.”

“Well, believe it, because it’s true.”

Radek frowned and wagged a finger in Rodney’s direction. “Something is different about you. Did something happen?”

“You mean, other than wrecking my rental car, having to cancel my presentation, and missing an entire week of the conference?” Rodney replied drily.

Radek shook his head. “No . . .” he said slowly. “Something . . . else. Did you . . . _like_ it there? From the man who refuses to accept offers from places that are not in large cities?”

Rodney scowled. “I do not! And, you know,” Rodney said with a half shrug, “it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It was actually kind of nice.” You know, until John broke his heart and ordered Rodney to get out of his life, but yeah. Nice.

Radek suddenly grinned. “You met someone!”

Rodney blinked. “What? No. Why would you say that?”

His grin turned smug. “You totally met someone. Who is it? He or she? Are they coming to hear you speak?”

“What are you, five?” Rodney rolled his eyes then threw his friend a bone. “There was a guy, yes, but, no. He will not be coming and I will not be hearing from him again, before you ask. Now,” he pulled his laptop out, “if you’re finished, we have work to do.”

Now that they were in the same place again, Rodney and Radek went over the presentation, delineating who would do what, fine tuning the slides, and making sure they were ready. Hours later, Rodney closed his laptop and was in the midst of returning it to the case when he heard a voice he’d most wanted to avoid.

“Hey, McKay! You made it!”

Rodney grimaced, secured the laptop, then turned to face the newcomer to their table. “Tunney,” he said flatly.

Malcolm smirked at him. “I’m glad you made it, but now I’m out $20.”

Rodney glanced at Radek who shrugged. Reluctantly, Rodney turned back to Tunney and asked warily, “What does you losing money have to do with my arrival?”

“Well, a bunch of us had a bet going on whether you’d show or not and when. Me? I had you showing up just in time to watch me collect my award on the final day.” Tunney’s smirk grew wider and Rodney gritted his teeth. “Guess you’re just a glutton for punishment, huh, McKay? Or did you just need the extra time to steal someone else’s work?”

“I think you have that backwards, Tunney,” Rodney snapped, getting to his feet. He could take the comments about him not showing up but questioning the validity of his work? Hell no. “It’s you who have to steal other people’s work in order to seem smarter than the average bear. And I’m talking about the giant blue one across the street. I bet he’s a million times smarter than you. Whose coattails are you riding now, hmm?”

Tunney’s smug expression flattened out a little and he straightened his back. “I’ll have you know I’ve partnered with Kramer Innovations and they’ve given me everything I’ve asked for. They’ve been _very_ impressed with my work, I’ll have you know. In fact, I’d be _happy_ to go over it again for you, personally, since you’ve missed an entire week. Where have you been, anyway, McKay?”

“That’s none of your business,” Rodney bristled. “And trust me, whatever you’re doing is not nearly as important or impressive as what we’ve got to present.” He waved vaguely in Radek’s direction and had the satisfaction of watching Tunney’s face turn red. He might be a bit rusty at the game after spending a week with people who meant what they said and didn’t mind his abrasiveness, but he could still cut Tunney to ribbons when he wanted to. And he wanted to. Rodney realized now that he’d actually toned it down while at John’s and hadn’t minded. Huh. He forced his mind back to the present.

Tunney spluttered but Rodney ignored him to scoop up his laptop. He told Radek, “I’ll see you in the morning.” Receiving a nod, Rodney shoved past Tunney and out of the restaurant. 

But he didn’t go to his room. No, he needed air so he wandered until he found a green space outside where he sat and watched the bit of sky visible between hotels slowly turn from blue to black. The stars weren’t visible, though. Not without a telescope. Rodney tried, anyway, tried to find his favorites but he wasn’t able to orient himself well enough to find them without seeing them.

With a heavy sigh, Rodney headed upstairs to his hotel room to change and go to bed. Tomorrow was going to be just as much fun as sniping with Tunney had been. God, why had he been so insistent on getting here? It wasn’t as fun as it used to be, rubbing people’s noses in his excellence. It was just . . . it was too much like high school, only they were all nerds picking on each other instead of being the nerd picked on by the jocks.

John hadn’t ever treated him like that.

“Argh!” Rodney growled, and flopped on the bed in his pajamas, dragging the pillow over his head. Stop thinking like that! Nothing was going to change and he needed to stop comparing every damn thing to John!

How could a week change his life so dramatically?

* * *

John found himself wondering the exact same thing the next day. He’d successfully managed to make it through the past couple of days without falling apart, though his friends certainly kept a close eye on him. He hadn’t slept in his own bed, and nightmares had continued to plague him, but that was between him and the couch. John wasn’t the type to stay on the couch and wallow, that week four years ago notwithstanding, and no matter what Evan said, he wasn’t going to dwell on what he’d lost.

John threw himself into the work on the ranch, just like he’d done before Rodney McKay ever entered his life and it was . . . . fine. It was fine. He finally finished taking apart that decrepit length of fence, put together the new one, and tossed the old stuff in the compost pile. Bitterness at needing to use someone else’s money mixed with relief that he wouldn’t lose his mom’s ranch . . . and perhaps some guilt over how he’d treated Rodney. It had taken those few days for him to realize that perhaps it had been an emotional reaction, born from hurt and anger and his own personal history.

But damn it! Rodney had _lied_ to John! He’d lied for days under the pretense of helping him, just like his father. That was what John just couldn’t get past. If Rodney had come to him and asked, or—or come up with a logical reason or let John decide what he would accept money for or a payment plan, even, maybe . . . maybe John would have been able to swallow enough of his pride to take it. But he didn’t. He just did it. 

Maybe Rodney really was just trying to help but he went about it the wrong way and John . . . didn’t know what to do.

Thoughts like that helped drive the hammer as John worked until he was exhausted enough to manage a couple hours of sleep. Anger and guilt swirled around inside him and he wasn’t able to settle on any one emotion. Everything just fucking hurt and he just didn’t want to fucking _feel_ anymore.

It was hardest, though, when night fell and John had to go back to his big empty house, back to his empty bed, and remember how it had felt to share it with someone who _got_ him. Someone who understood him, who had the same interests and sense of humor, who set him on fire in all the right ways.

In the dark was when the pain returned. And the doubts crept in.

Doubts like, had John been wrong to send Rodney away? Had John been more upset over the charity or the lying? Had he been projecting his feelings about Todd onto Rodney? Was it possible he’d been afraid to actually let someone in—and stay there—that he’d unconsciously shoved Rodney away?

Had he made a huge mistake?

Why was Rodney’s assistance—albeit monetarily—so abhorrent?

John had finally figured out that it wasn’t. His pride wouldn’t let him accept help unless he specifically asked for it because he knew the kind of strings that normally came with that. It was why he wouldn’t let anyone in town pay him for things a decent human being would do. Like tutoring. He had the knowledge, the kids needed the help, so he gave it, not expecting or wanting anything in return. That, John realized, was what Rodney had done for him. He meant it, not needing the money, and he knew John did.

That was the difference between Todd and Rodney, too. Todd was still self-serving, no matter what he’d supposedly done for John. Rodney wasn’t. He’d given John the money because he hadn’t wanted John to lose this last connection to his mom and his home. Not because he wanted anything in return. Which was also probably why he hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t needed the acknowledgment or gratitude and he hadn’t done it out of pity or sympathy. Rodney had done it because he cared about John. With everything in him, John wished he could have realized that days ago, but he’d been so quick to jump to the worst possible conclusion.

John returned to the house after another long day of work and a couple hours of introspection up at his spot to find Evan sitting at the island in the kitchen, waiting for him. The suggestion of a beer was accepted and they headed out to the patio with a six-pack from the fridge. John set a few logs in the pit, lit a fire, poking at it every now and then from his seat on the bench, and they talked about nothing in particular. Old stories came out, reminiscing a bit over lost friends, talking sports, plans for the ranch in spring.

John took a swig then lowered the bottle to rest on the edge of the bench. The alcohol was making him feel looser, lowered his walls a bit more than usual. John was usually so guarded that he only let the mask fall when he was either drunk or with people he trusted implicitly. Right now, both were in play. John tipped his head back, let it rest on the back of the bench, and scanned the night sky for the blue-tinged star that was part of the constellation he’d begun to think of as “theirs.” The words slipped out of his mouth, unbidden, “Nothing feels right since he left.”

John hadn’t realized how true that was until he’d said it aloud. Sure, things had gone back to normal, to how they’d been before Rodney, before Todd. But something was off. And John had been trying so hard for the past two days to ignore the feeling but he couldn’t. There was this—this hole inside that just kept growing and growing. He’d finally figured out the why but beyond that, he was lost. He couldn’t rewind, couldn’t figure it out sooner, and in the meantime, Rodney was gone and John was . . . lost.

Evan, to his credit, didn’t ask who John meant. He just drank, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and asked, “So what are you going to do about it?”

John rolled his head to the side, staring at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” Evan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and met John’s gaze, his own eyes intense in the fire’s glow. “I gave you time to think, move past your hurt and anger, and now I’m asking you: what are you going to do about it? Are you going to keep on holding your heart hostage until someone comes along who’ll never lie to you or withhold information? Because, John, my friend, that will not only never happen, it’s not fair to you or the other person. We all need someone to love and we are all worthy of that love. That includes you.”

John blinked against the sudden burn in his eyes, lifting his head to gaze steadily into the fire.

“You’re in love with Rodney,” Evan said softly. John shook his head. No. He couldn’t be. Not that fast. “You are. You know you are. So now you need to decide if you can get over what he did and go after him . . . or if you’re going to continue to punish the both of you for a stupid mistake he made because he cared about you.”

John couldn’t breathe.

Evan drained his beer and stood. “I’m gonna hit the head. When I come back, you better have an answer.”

John heard the sliding door open, a shaft of light lighting up a portion of the yard before the door slid shut again, cutting it off. Evan had echoed some of his thoughts but what John was stuck on was the whole deserving love thing. And how he was holding his heart hostage. Those doubts came roaring back, stronger than before. John set his beer on the patio floor and put his face in his hands. He missed Rodney, so much it was an ever present ache in his chest. Maybe he was in love. Because it hurt too damn much to not be love, right? And that meant he _had_ been projecting, at least a bit, right? If Evan was right—and John had never known his friend to be wrong when it was important—then Rodney had given him the money because he cared about John, because he’d known that John wouldn’t want to lose the ranch. 

And John had thrown the gift back in his face.

He huffed a laugh. Fuck. If he’d just taken the time to think about it or—or actually talk to Rodney, maybe things wouldn’t have gone this far. But why the hell didn’t Rodney try harder to make him listen? Why did he just let John yell at him and blame him and walk away? Everything John knew or thought he knew about Rodney said that he wasn’t the type to give up like that. So, then, did Rodney even love him? 

Did John really want to find out?

The door opened and shut and footsteps heralded the return of Evan. Moments later he dropped into his chair and said, “So?”

John closed his eyes, blew out his breath, then opened his eyes and looked at his friend. “I think I need to go to Denver.”

Evan smiled. “I think you’re right.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

John opened the door and slipped into the back of the conference room, the room dark except for the lights on stage where Rodney was talking. It had taken him longer to figure out how to navigate through downtown Denver to the hotel than he’d expected. He’d left that morning, following directions Evan had written down for him. Evan had done some research and figured out where Rodney’s conference was but there wasn’t a schedule up online. Since John wasn’t on the list, it had taken a little flirting with the concierge and a charming smile to get her to let him know where the presentations were being held and a schedule for the day. Rodney’s had been on the list for that afternoon and a quick glance at his watch told him it had already started.

That worked. It gave him some time to get his thoughts together. He’d had the whole drive to figure out what to say but now that he was here, actually looking at Rodney, John realized anything he’d planned wasn’t going to work.

Rodney was up on stage with some other guy, probably the friend and lab partner, and they tag teamed the presentation like they’d done it before. And they probably had, he thought. John listened but he understood maybe a quarter of what they were talking about so he closed his eyes and tried to steady the pounding of his heart. He had one chance to get this right. One chance to fix what he’d done.

The sound of applause eventually drew him from his thoughts. John started, sitting up straight. Shit, how much time had passed? He refocused on the stage where Rodney and his friend were doing a bit of Q&A now. John grinned a little as Rodney lambasted someone for asking a question that was apparently stupid. 

He slouched a bit in his chair, crossed his arms. He’d wait til after the Q&A ended, see what Rodney did afterwards. If he’d wait for the room to empty out before leaving or not. So John waited. And waited. Gee, scientists really liked to argue, didn’t they? ‘Course, they’d probably call it debate or animated conversation, he thought with a faint grin.

Finally, they started to head towards the exits, still talking amongst themselves. John heard a lot of comments about the ingenuity of Rodney’s work—tinged with surprise, which irked John. There were also comments about how Rodney’s attitude hadn’t changed, about how he would be even more insufferable now. John hid an amused laugh with a cough at that one. He got a few curious looks and he knew he didn’t look like he belonged at an event like this, in his boots and leather jacket. Rodney and his friend remained up on stage as everyone left, talking and putting away equipment. When the last stragglers left, John took a breath and then rose to his feet. 

Showtime.

John walked slowly up the aisle, Rodney’s voice getting clearer as he got closer to the stage. His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry. Now that the time had finally come, it seemed so much harder to actually make himself say the words. One foot in front of the other, John made his way to the stage, unnoticed. When he drew even with the front row of chairs, John stopped and just looked. A small smile crossed his face. He’d never really had the opportunity to see Rodney in all his scientific glory.

It looked good on him.

Like, really good. No wonder he was desperate to get here in the beginning.

Rodney and his colleague spoke rapidly, in that way that told of a longstanding friendship, neither completing full sentences yet they both clearly understood what the other was saying. The projector screen was still on behind them, still showing the last slide of their presentation. There was never going to be a good time so he just had to suck it up and _say something_.

John took a deep breath, held it for a couple seconds then blew it out slowly. Felt his heart rate slow just the slightest bit. Okay. He could do this. “Rodney?”

His voice didn’t betray him, thankfully.

Rodney paused, as if unsure he’d heard what John had said, then turned quickly to face him, eyes wide. A myriad of emotions flitted across his face, John managing to pick out surprise, hope, and then a guarded, wary look. All of those were understandable, considering how they’d left things. John was just grateful it wasn’t hate or—or dismissal. Or just nothing at all. 

“John.” Rodney sounded a little poleaxed. “You—you’re here.” He bit his lip, looked at his friend for a moment before turning back to him. “Wh—what are you doing here?”

“Uh.” John swallowed hard and stepped forward. “You got a minute? I need to talk to you.” He flicked his gaze at Rodney’s friend, watching silently. “In private, if you don’t mind?”

Rodney blinked. “You—you need to . . . oh. Um.” He glanced at his friend again, uncertain. John willed him to agree, to come with him.

The friend took a step closer, pushed his glasses up his nose, and asked, “Is this—?”

Rodney nodded. “Yeah.”

“Ah.” Now the friend turned his gaze back on John and John felt the weight of it like a physical thing. He got the feeling that Rodney’s friend would rip him apart if he knew the whole story. Or did he already know it? How much had Rodney told him about what had happened?

Focusing on Rodney, John let his emotions fill his voice and said softly, “Rodney. Please?”

Rodney closed his eyes, looking pained, then he turned to his friend and asked, “Radek, can you—”

“Finish packing up?” he finished. “Ano. Go. I will talk with you later.”

Rodney nodded then turned to John. “Okay,” he said.

John felt almost faint with relief and had to remind himself that this was only step one. Getting Rodney to agree to listen was only the beginning.

Rodney walked to the far side of the stage, went down the few steps, and came back up until he was a couple feet away. They looked at each other for a long moment then John twisted his hand in a sort of _after you_ gesture. Rodney’s lips twitched but he started up the aisle, John falling in behind him, feeling Radek’s gaze on him as he walked.

The bar clanged as Rodney pushed the door open, holding it for John. The latch clicked shut behind them and then they stood there. John wasn’t sure where would be the best place for this conversation. The hotel seemed too crowded and asking to go up to Rodney’s room was pushing it.

“Coffee?” Rodney suggested.

John felt a faint smile cross his face. Whatever else may be going on, it was nice to know that coffee would always be Rodney’s go to. “Sure,” he agreed. It was as good an option as any. And maybe while they did that, he could think of how to start this.

Rodney led the way to the hotel Starbucks kiosk, getting in line behind a couple of businessmen who looked like they were either getting ready for a trip or had just arrived from one. It was soon their turn, Rodney giving the barista a super specific order while John just asked for a simple mocha. They paid separately, John noted, wondering if that was a pointed non-comment about his freak out over money. Rodney dropped his change into the tip jar and then they walked away.

John sipped his mocha, savoring the chocolatey taste, and looked for a place that was private enough for the coming conversation but nothing looked good. A couple tables by the front windows . . . but there were other people there. Couches and armchairs placed randomly throughout the lobby . . . subject to being eavesdropped by anyone.

“Um,” Rodney offered, a little hesitant, “there’s an outdoor area we could go to. It’s—it’s a little more private than out here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sounds good.” 

They walked through the lobby, past the fountain in the center, and wove between groups of people. Rodney got stopped by a couple of these groups. Fellow scientists, John assumed. They asked him to clarify something or wanted his opinion on things. Rodney answered and John found himself the recipient of quite a few appraising glances and a couple onceovers. Rodney never introduced him and John didn’t offer any sort of insight into whatever they were discussing.

After they broke away from the third such group, John had to ask. “Is there something on my face?”

“Hmm, what? No. Why?”

“Because your friends kept staring at me.”

“Oh.” Rodney’s expression darkened momentarily. “No, that’s nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”

He didn’t elaborate beyond that and John got the message, dropping the topic. Of course, that left room for the uncomfortable silence to spread between them. The patio, when they stepped outside, was more of a communal mini-park for the area. Benches and patio tables with chairs were evenly spaced around a green space. There were only a couple people out there, thanks to the chilly weather, which worked for John.

Except for the fact that he still didn’t know how to start this, now that he had Rodney willing to listen. Asking for a minute to talk was easy enough but actually talking? That was hard.

They walked, taking the sidewalk path through the space, and drank their coffees in silence.

Rodney broke it with the clearing of his throat. “So, uh, how—how are things back at—at the ranch? Any more trouble with . . . you know?”

John jumped on the conversational opening gratefully. “Everything’s fine. The, uh, the sheriff actually investigated the Genii and found that they had a history of forcing people to sell their property through less than legal means. Turns out Todd was involved and Cowan gave up Todd in a heartbeat, apparently in the hopes of receiving a lighter sentence. So, no, they won’t be bothering me anymore.”

“Wait, Todd was working with Cowan?”

“Yeah. Found that out when I went to break up with him.”

“You—you broke up with him. When the hell did you do that?”

John winced. “Uh, the day after we—after the blizzard. So uh guess the Genii won’t be trying to convince me to sell.”

“So the ranch is safe,” Rodney added, a hint of an edge to his tone.

John hid his grimace in the rim of his cup. “Yeah. And, uh, the guys are good. The ranch is good. Everything’s . . . good.” He fell silent. They reached the furthest table and Rodney paused briefly by it, but John couldn’t sit. He needed to move or he’d never say anything. John started to talk several times but stopped before more than a word got out. He blew out his breath and muttered, “Fuck,” under his breath. _Fucking do it already_ , he thought fiercely. “So, uh,” he stumbled over the words, aware of Rodney’s gaze on him now. “I owe you an apology.”

“That would be nice,” Rodney replied evenly. “If you mean it.”

John winced and stopped walking. Rodney stopped with him, an expectant expression on his face. “I do mean it. I’m sorry, Rodney.”

Rodney studied him. “For kicking me out of your life? Or for believing that I didn’t genuinely care about you and what happened to you?”

John swallowed, his throat tight. “Both?” he offered.

“Both.” Rodney nodded, humming. He sipped his coffee then turned and started walking again. John caught up to him a couple steps later. “Okay. So am I to believe that you suddenly changed your mind? Again?”

“Um, yes?”

“Uh huh.” Rodney drank his coffee then said, “You know, John, I’m a little confused. First you say you want me to stay, then you say you doubt I actually care about you and tell me to get out of your life forever, and now here you are saying . . . what, exactly? That we’re back to square one?”

Snow started to swirl down from the sky, little flakes skittering by, being dusted up as they walked. John tried to organize his thoughts into something that would make sense.

“I’m waiting.”

John blew out his breath. “So, it occurred to me around yesterday afternoon that I had unfairly judged you based on my past and I shouldn’t have done that. So, uh, sorry.”

Rodney stopped and stared at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “That’s your grand apology? You drove all the way down here, hunted me down at my conference, and that’s your apology? You realized you treated me unfairly and that’s what you’re going with?”

John lifted one shoulder. “I don’t . . . I’m not good at—talking.”

“Clearly. And clearly I’m going to have to drag an actual explanation out of you.” Rodney sighed. “ _Why_ did you do it? I’m still trying to figure out why you acted like me paying off a couple loans was the equivalent of—of throwing a bomb into your house?”

John winced and looked at his feet. Shuffled his feet a little and bit his lip. “Um,” he said eloquently. 

Rodney sighed again. “John . . . if you’re not going to tell me why you reacted that way, then this is pointless. I get that you’re sorry, but I don’t even know why you’re here if that’s all you’re going to say. We could have gone on with our lives without it. What was the point of driving all the way down here to say I’m sorry with some vague explanation? What are we doing here, John? Because what you said hurt. What you did hurt. And I’m waiting to hear a reason, or—or something that explains why. I don’t have to give you any time but I did because, despite what you may have thought, I do care about you. Give me a reason not to walk away right now.”

They’d circled back around to the tables and John moved to sit at one. He was right. If John wasn’t going to tell him everything, then what _was_ the point? Setting his coffee down amidst the light dusting of snow on the tabletop, he rubbed his face with both hands. He lowered his hands but didn’t look at Rodney. Couldn’t. “I’ve had a lot of people in my past tell me they cared about me then turn around and try to use that to get me to do something,” John finally admitted. 

He heard the other chair scrape against the sidewalk, indicating Rodney had sat down, as well. “Okay,” Rodney said, gently prompting him to continue.

John wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, seeking the warmth. “I haven’t said a whole lot about my family.”

“Try none,” Rodney muttered then said quickly, “Sorry. Keep going.”

John smiled faintly, before focusing once again on where his thumbs covered part of the Starbucks logo. “There’s a reason for that. Well, quite a few, but they all circle back to my father. I was expected to take over the family business but I never wanted that. I tried, though, because it was family. Nothing I ever did was good enough and whenever Dad wanted something, he pulled the family card. The “Mom would have wanted this for you,” or “I just want the best for you,” or the rare times he ever said he loved me, and once he’d gotten the warm and fuzzy feelings out of the way, he’d ask me to up my commitment to the company in one form or another. It was never _just_ that. It was always used as a way to guilt me into doing what he wanted.”

A warm hand rested on his and John looked up. Rodney’s gaze rested on his, full of emotion but John didn’t see pity, thank god. “I hope you know that that’s not how it’s supposed to be. I may not have had the best family life growing up, either, but even I know that parents aren’t supposed to use your love for them to make you do things.”

“I know that now,” John replied. “But it still colored the way I view things, the way I interact with others. Sometimes I’m aware of it; other times I’m not. And sometimes it comes out of nowhere, triggered by something. I still try to have some sort of relationship with my brother, no matter how strained, because he is my little brother. At the moment, our only decent topic of conversation is our mother.”

Rodney gently tugged on John’s hand, prying it from the tight grip on the coffee cup, until he was holding it. John’s fingers were chilled, despite having been wrapped around the warm cup, and he curled his fingers around Rodney’s, holding tight. A lifeline, a hint of safety that what John was saying wouldn’t be judged or fall on deaf ears.

John wet his lips. “Evan and—and the guys we served with were the first ones I let in who didn’t do that. Granted, we were in the middle of a war zone and there were other things to think about, but I was still finding my footing, figuring out my place in things. We were brothers in arms but I held back. They stuck around, thankfully, but it still took years for me to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. When I first started going out with Todd, I thought I’d been able to put that behind me because I’d made friends who cared about me, unconditionally. But he was doing the exact same thing my father had done and then, just a couple days later, I found out you had paid off what I owed the bank and—and everyone and—”

“Oh,” Rodney said softly, knowingly.

John nodded, grateful that Rodney had understood. “It wasn’t about the money,” he tried. “I mean, it was, a bit. I don’t like handouts and I am sometimes a bit too proud for my own good, but also, it wasn’t . . .” He made a face and closed his eyes, trying to make the right words come out. “It—I don’t . . .”

But it didn’t work. It was like he’d run out of words.

That was okay, though, because Rodney found the words for him. “You were already raw from what had happened with Todd that you were subconsciously looking for the same to happen with me and I gave it to you. Handed you that reason on a silver platter.”

John nodded helplessly, grip tightening on Rodney’s hand lest he pull away. He couldn’t handle it if Rodney were to pull away, not now. “I was wrong,” he said, voice hoarse with emotion. He’d apparently managed to find words again, because they flowed out of him. “Because you didn’t do that for any sort of reason that I’d experienced before except with Evan. You didn’t do it to make me do anything. You did it because you cared. Still care, or you wouldn’t be sitting here with me right now. I just—I couldn’t see it then, blinded by my own hurt and fear, but I see it now. And I’m sorry. Rodney, I am so sorry.” His eyes burned and he blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling, focusing on the table. Snow drifted down.

Rodney didn’t respond and John kept his gaze down. He’d put it all out there. The ball was in Rodney’s court now and John really didn’t know what he’d do. 

Rodney pulled his hand away and the sudden cold on John’s hand reflected the sudden chill in his chest. Rodney wasn’t going to forgive him, let alone want him again. The rejection hurt more than he thought it would. Then the chair scraped and John felt warm fingers grip his chin, tip it up. Rodney stood beside the table, looking down at him. 

John waited, unable to breathe. 

Rodney’s eyes searched his for a long moment then he nodded slightly to himself. His thumb swept across John’s lower lip then Rodney was bending down. John’s breath caught and then Rodney was kissing him. Relief swept through him as Rodney’s mouth caressed his. After a long moment, Rodney pulled back, slid his hand around to grip the back of John’s neck and alter the angle before they were kissing again. John parted his lips when he felt the tip of Rodney’s tongue press against them and his heart was racing. 

He’d hoped but he never actually thought Rodney would forgive him. John was never that lucky.

Rodney broke away but kept his hand curled around John’s neck. John was breathing heavily and he stared up at Rodney. “Please tell me that wasn’t a goodbye kiss,” he finally managed to say.

Rodney closed his eyes briefly then leaned back in for a quick kiss before straightening. He didn’t remove his hand entirely, though, instead letting it gently slide down John’s arm to grip his hand. Rodney dragged his chair over and sat, facing him. “John,” he said and waited until John lifted his gaze from their joined hands to meet his eyes. “Whatever this is, it is not a goodbye.”

“Good. Because I—I’d really like to continue this. Us.” John looked away, immediately backtracking. Just because Rodney kissed him didn’t mean he wanted anything other than to part as—as friends. If that. It didn’t mean he wanted John anymore. “I mean, if you want to. Of course. I completely understand if—if you don’t—”

“Hey. John. Hey. Look at me.”

John did.

Rodney’s eyes were bright. “I’d like that, too.”

Hope sparked inside. “Really?”

Rodney nodded. “Really.”

John swallowed. “Okay. Okay, so—so what now? I, uh, I didn’t really think past this part.”

Rodney shook his head, chuckling softly. “Of course you didn’t. You didn’t think I’d actually forgive you. I meant it, John, I care about you. I care about you a whole hell of a lot.”

John bit his lip, remembering Evan’s assertion. Maybe he could summon up his last reserves of courage and offer himself up completely. Before his nerve completely failed him. 

“John? What is it?”

John opened his mouth, closed it again. Made himself say, “I love you.”

Rodney’s mouth dropped open. “You—you—”

“Love you.” John nodded, heart pounding. He realized he was squeezing Rodney’s hand awfully tight and made himself loosen his grip. “Yeah. I’ve never been in love before so I wasn’t really sure what I was feeling or why your absence left this hole in my life until Evan put it into words. But I know what it is now, and I don’t want to live without it anymore. I just . . . I’m really hoping you feel the same.”

Rodney looked stunned. He finally said, “I love you, too. I just didn’t say it because I wasn’t sure you were ready to hear it but I do.”

This was so much more than John had hoped for and he felt the tightness in his shoulders finally fall away. “You do?”

Rodney squeezed his hand. “I know it sounds crazy, after knowing each other barely a week, but I do.”

John leaned forward and Rodney met him halfway. How John could ever have thought he could give this up, he’d never know. Because this, right now, felt right in a way nothing in his life had. Whatever happened, he and Rodney were supposed to be together. He just knew it.

Pulling back, though, there was this last little niggling thought in the back of his head. One last thing that needed to be addressed. “Um,” John said.

Rodney narrowed his eyes. “What?” he asked warily.

John looked down. “I—it’s just, well, I mean—”

“Use your words, Sheppard.”

He bit his lip then blurted out, “Do you, um, do you forgive me?”

Rodney sucked in a sharp breath. He stood, drawing John’s attention, then dragged John to his feet and cupped his face with both hands. Leaning in, Rodney breathed, “Yes. Now that I know why, yes, John, of course I forgive you. You were hurting and afraid and yes.” He peppered kisses across John’s face as he spoke, each press of his lips to skin easing the last lingering bits of fear and anxiety still inside.

John gripped Rodney’s wrists and let his forehead fall forward to press against Rodney’s. “You,” he said softly, “are an extraordinary person, Rodney McKay. And I will be forever grateful you knocked on my door.”

Rodney wrapped his arms around John’s waist and drew him close. “I might actually have to thank my sister,” he said, which was not at all what John had expected him to say.

“What?” he asked, drawing back in surprise.

Rodney shrugged. “She is the one who sent me down that road in the first place. If she hadn’t, I might not have been stuck in the snow and never would have found your ranch. In a roundabout way, she’s kind of the reason we found each other.”

“Huh.” John thought about that for a minute. “I might have to meet her now.”

“Eh. Eventually. She’s good in small doses.”

John chuckled and kissed him. “So. What now? You presented your thing, right? So is there still conference stuff to do or how does this work?”

Rodney frowned. “Well. The conference doesn’t officially end until the awards ceremony tomorrow. And there are a couple of other scheduled panels I wouldn’t mind attending, if you don’t think you’d be too bored.”

John shrugged. “I don’t mind tagging along. This is your thing and I can finally see what you do for a living. And I can follow along with most things, if you don’t mind explaining every now and then.”

“Really?” Rodney sounded surprised. “Okay, um. Then we should probably head back inside.”

As much as John didn’t want to let go, he didn’t want Rodney to miss things. He’d meant what he’d said: this was Rodney’s thing and he wanted to learn about it like Rodney had learned about the ranch. So, reluctantly, John let go and stepped back, reaching over to pick up his coffee. He took a tentative sip and made a face. The temperature had finally gotten to it.

Rodney picked his up and took a long drink.

John raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it cold?”

Rodney shrugged, reached out to take John’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “Eh, when you’ve had coffee that’s been in the pot for more than a day, cold coffee doesn’t bother you all that much.”

They walked back along the sidewalk, snow falling harder now, and back inside. John tossed his coffee at the first trash receptacle he saw and they started back towards the theatre. Rodney stopped halfway across the lobby.

“Shoot!”

John turned to him in surprise. “What?”

“You can’t get in.” Rodney scowled. 

John was confused for a moment, then realized that because he wasn’t listed as a paying conference attendee, he wouldn’t be allowed in with Rodney. He’d gotten in earlier simply because he’d charmed the concierge but John didn’t hold out hope that that would happen again. “Hey,” he tried to tell Rodney, “don’t worry about it. It’s fine. I can find something to do until later.”

“No.” Rodney snapped his fingers several times and let go of his hand to dig around in his pocket. “I got it!” He pulled his phone out and hit a few buttons before lifting it to his ear.

“Rodney,” John tried again. “Really, it’s fine. Go do your thing.”

“No no no no, I’ve got it. He owes me—Radek!” Rodney half-turned away from him, focused on his phone call. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, look, I need a favor. Oh shut up. I need you to go and flirt with that conference organizer again. What was her name? Melinda? Miranda? Anyway, I need you to get a conference badge for John.” He glanced at John and rolled his eyes. “Yes, that John. How many other Johns do I know who need a conference badge?” Another quick glance and John thought his cheeks were a bit pink now. He was blushing!

John raised an eyebrow and the blush deepened. Adorable.

“I am capable of forgiveness, asshole. Can you do this or not? Good. We’ll meet you at the doors in a bit, then.”

He hung up and turned back to John, still pink. “It’s all settled,” Rodney announced, triumphant.

“What’s all settled? What was that phone call about?”

“Radek’s getting you into the conference.” His flush faded and a hint of uncertainty entered his gaze. “If that’s okay. You don’t have to. And you’ll probably be the center of attention for a bit, looking like you do and, well, the fact that you’re with me. Unless you’d rather not, which I’d understand but—”

It was John’s turn to interrupt and he did so by kissing him, in the middle of the lobby for everyone to see. When Rodney simply stared at him as he pulled back, John decided it was his new favorite thing to do. “I want to come. I think I have an idea of why you would think I wouldn’t want to be seen with you, but believe me: I do. And I will happily kiss you in front of everyone to prove them wrong, if you’d like.”

The uncertainty disappeared and Rodney took a step closer, reaching out to brush a hand through his hair. He said quietly, “I’d like that very much. More than you know. I mean, you saw a bit before but—”

“Rodney,” he interrupted. “I get it. Trust me. You’ve been there for me, most times without me realizing it. Let me be there for you, now.”

Rodney sighed lightly and shook his head. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You?” John smiled. “I think I’m the lucky one.” He leaned in for a kiss.

Rodney started as his phone beeped. He pulled it out, looked down at it and grinned. “That was fast.” He tapped out a response then put it away and looked at John. “Radek did it. He’s waiting for us.”

“Wow. Guess we better get going then. Don’t want you to miss your panel.” John couldn’t resist leaning in for another kiss before they headed for the theatre and Radek.

Rodney’s hand was warm in his and John didn’t feel cold anymore. Radek greeted them both and handed over the badge for John to wear around his neck before leading the way inside.

In fact, John didn’t think he’d ever feel so cold—or alone—anymore. Not with Rodney at his side.

* * *

_Seven months later_

Rodney leaned on the fence and watched as a horse trotted by, a young girl in the saddle. A huge smile lit up her face as the quarter horse followed her commands. A breeze blew past, a balm against the heat from the bright summer sun overhead. Footsteps in the grass behind him alerted him to the arrival of his sister.

She came up on his left, stepped up onto the bottom fence slat and leaned her elbows on the top. “He’s good with her.”

Rodney smiled softly. “Yeah.” He loved that John and Madison were getting along so well.

She glanced over and down at him. “You look utterly besotted, Mer.”

He flushed.

“It’s a good look on you.” Jeannie smiled. “I’m glad you finally found someone, even if it’s not who I would have expected.”

Rodney focused back on the pair in the pasture. “Me, neither,” he admitted after a moment. Falling in love with John had come out of nowhere, something he’d never in a million years planned on or expected. But it was great and amazing and every other adjective he could think of.

It was a little hard, at first, once Rodney went back to Toronto and his work and, yes, managing to keep a relationship going while they were in two different countries was difficult, but they’d figured it out. Sort of. John _finally_ got a cell phone and a decent internet connection so they could keep in touch with more than just email and hoping that John was near the landline when Rodney called. FaceTime was a godsend, honestly. Then, when the contract was in the final weeks, Rodney started shipping his things out.

John came out for the final week to help with the last bit of packing and details. When he handed over his keys to the lab, Rodney found he didn’t really feel like he’d miss it. John had already offered to turn one of the storage sheds into a lab for him, if he wanted. And Rodney could still do consulting work for the government, no matter where he was. Denver was close enough if he needed to use a more well-equipped lab or telescope.

Rodney was surprised, upon his return, to find that Puddlejumper remembered him and was excited to see him. He was even more surprised to find that he missed the horse, as well. He’d been there about a month, when John brought up Maddie and his offer to teach her how to ride. Which, of course, led to Rodney having to call his sister and let her know that he was now living in Wyoming and did she want to bring her family for a visit? A week later, Jeannie, Kaleb, and Madison had arrived and John had charmed them like he’d charmed Rodney. 

They still had their troubles, and John still had those deep-seated fears to contend with, but they made it through the other side each time. Rodney refused to give him up again and John seemed to feel the same, once Rodney got him to talk. Talking was hard for him but he was getting better. It helped that John wasn’t taking on the world on his own anymore.

Out in the pasture, the horse came to a stop. Maddie dismounted and Aiden appeared to take the horse back to the stable. Rodney squinted—was that PJ? He felt kind of . . . Peej was _his_ horse! The one he rode whenever he and John went for a ride. He scowled. What was John thinking, putting Maddie on his horse?

Madison started running through the pasture, headed straight for where the siblings stood on the other side of the fence, John walking a bit more sedately behind her. 

“Mommy, Mommy, didja see me? Didja, didja, didja? Uncle John said I’m a quick learner!” she cried as soon as she was within earshot. Or maybe slightly before.

Jeannie hopped down off the fence and Rodney moved past her to unhook the gate, swinging it open as the kid whipped past him. 

Jeannie hugged her daughter close. “I did see!” she exclaimed. “You’re doing such a good job! Did you thank John for the lesson?”

Maddie twisted around, a huge smile on her face. “Thank you, Uncle John!” she said as John walked through the gate behind her.

He came to a stop next to Rodney and slid an arm around his waist. John smiled at him then turned to Maddie. “You’re very welcome, Maddie. Soon enough you’ll be out on the trails and leaving me behind in the dust.”

Jeannie, arms still looped around her daughter’s shoulders, smiled gratefully at him. “Really, John, thank you for taking the time to teach her. I know you’re busy.”

John lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve got enough hands to help now so I can take the time for what’s important. Like someone once told me, life isn’t all about work. Taking the time to do something you enjoy is just as important.”

Rodney slipped a hand into John’s back pocket. That was true. Now that John no longer had to worry about going into debt and Cowan trying to steal his ranch, things had gotten better. They now offered riding lessons as well as a couple other things that Rodney had researched for him. And since they now had another source of income, John had been able to hire a couple of extra ranch hands to help. It turned out that there were a couple other soldiers that John and Evan knew and, when they reached out after being discharged, John offered them a job and a place to stay.

It was good for John to have his family together. His real family, not that piece of shit that attempted to raise him, although John did still talk to his brother every now and then. They had graduated to talking more about their current lives, which was progress. 

“That’s good,” Jeannie said with an approving nod as Kaleb joined them. “And this place is absolutely beautiful, John. I couldn’t believe it when Mer told us he’d moved out of Toronto to live on a ranch in Wyoming!”

Rodney winced at the nickname.

And, yep. John started, looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and said pointedly, “Mer?”

“Meredith,” he muttered. “My actual first name.” His face was red, he could feel it.

“Meredith?” John repeated, a familiar twinkle in his eye.

Rodney glared at him. “That is the one and only time you get to call me that so enjoy it, Sheppard. There’s a reason I go by ‘Rodney.’”

John hiked a thumb at Jeannie. “She calls you that.”

“She gets away with it because I can’t hit my sister.”

John grinned. “What, like you can hit me? You couldn’t even throw a decent snowball, as I recall.”

Rodney scowled at him. “I can, because I won’t feel as guilty about it as I would if I hit her.”

“That’s true,” Jeannie offered. “I’m good at that.”

“Oh, I’m not doubting the fact that you would want to hit me,” John said agreeably. “I’m doubting the fact that you think you _could_ actually hit me. We both know I’m more of an athlete than you are . . . Meredith.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes. “Fine. What would it take to get you to not call me that? Ever.”

John pursed his lips, making a show of thinking it over. “I suppose,” he drawled, “I could forget I heard it. If I was given a sufficient incentive.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Rodney swallowed hard, praying no one but John noticed the sudden tightness in his jeans. “You know, I think I could figure something out,” he replied, suggestion lacing his voice. Jeannie laughed.

John just grinned and kissed him.

Rodney smiled into it, looping his free hand around John’s neck and pulling him closer. He could hear the others leave and took the opportunity given to tease John’s mouth open. John made a sound in the back of his throat and slid his tongue into Rodney’s mouth.

Yeah, Rodney thought happily, this was exactly where he was meant to be.

Although he would definitely need to reapply sunblock if they were going to stay out here longer.

“Hey!” Laura called from the kitchen door, “I thought you were going to help cook, McKay!”

John pulled away with a laugh and Rodney dropped his head onto John’s shoulder. “Really?” Rodney muttered. “She had to do that right then?”

“McKay!”

Rodney lifted his head and hollered back, “I’m coming, shut up already!”

John laughed again and took his hand. “Come on, I’ll help.”

“But you can’t cook,” Rodney protested, even as he let John pull him away, his sister watching with a wide smile on her face.

“Sure I can,” John replied cheerfully. “Making the perfect grilled cheese is an art form.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “One of these days you’re going to have to learn how to make something else, you know.”

“But then what would you do?”

They reached the kitchen door and as John reached for the knob, Rodney pulled on their joined hands. John twisted and Rodney kissed him, allowing himself to sink into the kiss, to lose himself to the taste of John on his tongue. It wasn’t something he could fully do with his sister _right there_ but now, with some distance between them, he could. John returned the kiss just as eagerly, sliding his hands down the back of Rodney’s jeans.

When they came up for air, John’s pupils were blown, his face flushed. Rodney had the feeling he looked the same.

“I love you, so much,” John said softly.

Rodney smiled. “I love you, too.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter, guys. Wow. Seems like I just put the first chapter out, praying you liked it. Thanks for reading, love you all, and I hope you keep an eye out for my next fic, whenever I finish it :)


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